


How many Parts Make a Whole?

by Lolibat



Category: Makai Ouji: Devils and Realist
Genre: AU, Cannon pairings/hints, Gen, Generally cannon compliant, Gift fic for imey-chan and syphiria, Many thanks to the scanlators + translators of Makai Ouji!, This fic is to you guys, What if fic, gen - Freeform, spoilers up to the most recent chapter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-22
Updated: 2017-11-18
Packaged: 2018-12-18 15:01:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 33,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11877003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lolibat/pseuds/Lolibat
Summary: AU long fic: What if William found out about Solomon's soul much sooner? The last words of a father he can barely remember translates into a very different life for young William Twining.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Imey-chan and syphiria](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Imey-chan+and+syphiria).



"Father?" William asked, his voice uncertain and trembling with a child's fear. He looked for reassurance- of comfort, as a child needs- and all he found was crimson blood. Blood splattered over the broken carriage, bodies upon bodies, horses with their legs snapped and crying in pain. 

"Mother?" He asked, shaking hands gently reaching out for his mother's hands. They were cold and lifeless, limp in his grasp. Her lace dress was torn and her hair unbound. Perhaps she would just be sleeping, if it weren't for the blood oozing out of her head and dying her light blond hair bright red.

From underneath his mother's protective embrace, his father stirred. "Father!"

William raced over as fast as he could, ignoring the stinging pains of the wounds on his legs. Tears welled up over his eyes as he knelt beside his father's figure and tugged. His efforts were futile, and the man remain pinned underneath the carriage.

"William..." He said weakly. "My child... Take my ring and promise me to never let it go. This is our heritage- Solomon's Ring. It will protect you, my child. Please, stay safe." He said in between coughs. Slowly, his breaths grew weaker, and his last words were but a wheeze, but William heard them none the less. He stayed by his father's side. For how long, he didn't know, but in the time between high noon and twilight- the time he waited while his parents expired and breathed their last- he quietly slipped off the ancient and rusted ring from his father's cold hands and onto his own.

When Barton found the tragedy-struck family at sunset, cold green eyes greeted him. Green eyes that were far too ancient to belong to a six year old child. When he would search his brother's corpse for Solomon's Ring, he would find it gone, as though it had never appeared in the first place.

* * *

He saw things, sometimes. Ever since that fateful night, he began to change. He saw things when he was awake- feathers and flitting gossamer wings around the edges of the gardens. He would pluck herbs nilly-willy and brew herbal teas. The maids would always scold him, but the tea he made, he was sure to have made it before. He saw how the animals and pets around the manor which used to greet him during the day, ran away with their tails between their legs.

More so, he saw things in his dreams. He saw a timeless metropolis in the desert, surrounded by bustling marketplaces and bright fabrics. He saw white pillars and a bright tower, overseeing all of the city from far above. In his dreams, there was a man: a very sad man, reclining on a seat high above in the tower.

"Father?" He asked once from within the dream. His heart ached for his parents. The manor was far too quiet, and everyone was in mourning. He missed the days where he would play catch with the hunter's dogs and interrupted his mother's tea with her high classed lady friends. He missed catching caterpillars with Kevin and slipping them in the maid's dresses. He missed the days where he was just William Twining and not the six year old Lord Twining. He didn't dislike Uncle Barton, but he could never replace his parents.

The man turned and stared at him with piecing emerald eyes. He stroked the fur of the lion next to him and got up. William stood, ramrod straight and raised his gaze in challenge. He swallowed nervously but refused to back down. Chuckling, the man kneeled down and patted him on the head.

"My, what a brave young soul you are. What are you doing here, Child? It is far before your time." The voice was gentle and soothing and nothing like his father's.

"You're not my father..." William said, his voice trembling. "I miss my father." He looked down to hide his tears, his fists clenched and shaking.

With a sigh, the man who was draped in gold and silks embraced him tightly and pulled him close. The fabrics felt soft on William's tear stained cheeks, and he let his tears fall. Surely with all that fabric, he wouldn't notice if some of it got a bit damp.

"I'm sorry for your loss, Little One," he murmured, stroking William's hair gently. He didn't even know the man, only that the stranger appeared in his dreams and that he felt safe around him. He didn't know how or why, but he trusted him indiscriminately. For the first time since that day, he felt safe, in the embrace of the stranger. Perhaps it was a dream, which is why he didn't question his feelings.

"You'll be safe here, Little One. The world is not often kind to parentless children," his gaze saddened and his grip tightened over William's small body.

"William," he said, sniffling and wiping his tears on his sleeves. "My name is William Twining, and I'm six years old."

The man smiled- he looked gentle- "My name is Solomon, and I'll take care of you from now on."

And William believed him.

* * *

It was odd, Solomon thought with wonder, that his soul would manifest in a child so young. He mourned briefly for yet another vessel of his soul, dead for a curse that neither he nor anyone else was to blame for. Another family torn apart- descendants he never had the chance to meet. He mourned, though in his heart, he wasn't quite sure mourning feels like anymore.

The child was fearless, that is for sure, he thought and chuckled as six year old William Twining tugged on the lion demon's tail and clambered over the great beast's back. He tugged on the ears, laughing as a six year old would. 

He visits the dream world often, in the aftermath of the accident; or rather, to the outsiders looking in, William Twining slept a lot for a six year old. In reality, he was escaping to the dream world with Solomon, far away from his troubles. He tells the older man of his parents sometimes. The wise king knows that getting the child to open up- not to bury his miseries- would only be part of the recovery process. Still, he was fascinated by William's family, however short it lasted.

He had a loving father, a scholar at heart and a top student when he was in school. William proudly takes after his father that way, boasting of his kindergarten grades. They looked alike, with Solomon's blonde hair and green eyes inheriting strongly. His mother was the third daughter of a noble family. Their marriage was an arranged, but loving, one. They were childhood friends who grew up together and married to start a family. They had one son, a proud son whom they raised with utmost care... A son who turned out to be a rambunctious little hellion, dropping beetles and caterpillars onto the maids and climbing trees daily. A son who would burst into his mother's tea parties crying with scrapes and bruises, who would fall asleep on his father's study waiting for him to come home on the carriages. They loved him dearly, taking him on outings and spending time with him when they were able.

It was like something of a fairy tale, Solomon thought bitterly, thinking of his own dysfunctional family. Perhaps this was what he wanted for so long- a different life far away from Israel and the burden of being king. A life where he wasn't hounded by demons and angels alike- where he has a loving family and could live a normal life.

A normal life- he chuckled- that part has already disappeared. He glanced at the child, only to find him trying to pry the lion demon's mouth apart to look at the teeth. The poor beast was at its wits end, knowing well not to harm the carrier of Solomon's soul, yet not quite sure what to do with a humanling this young.

He would have to pay attention to William and guide him carefully- even in a land as unfamiliar in England, human greed remains universal. There are already hungry sharks aiming for the Twining family's fortune, and the closest and dearest ones are often the root of disaster. For one brief moment, he saw Thomas Barton through William's eyes. He saw the exaltation of heaven around him like a halo; he smelt the pestilence on him, draping over him like the sheen of spilt oil. It was no accident that the carriage driver suddenly had a tuberculosis attack and died, he thought. And to think that the Rider of Pestilence who once laid waste to Jerusalem would want to claim his soul for greed. Solomon's green eyes narrowed in thought. He would have to be very careful.

Yes, he would have to protect the little ray of sunshine with all his power. The child wasn't ready to take on the burden of his soul- that much was clear. Yet, he had potential... bright potential indeed, he thought, listening to the child's laughter echo through the halls.

* * *

"Solomon! Solomon!" William shrieked down the halls, tracking in muddy footprints and shedding leaves in his wake. Even in his dreams, his attire is in disarray, the king thought amusedly. In his days, he would surely have been given lashings for his behavior.

"William," he said with an oomph the eight year old barreled straight into him. "What has got you this excited today?" It was a wonder how the child still had so much energy to spare, seeing how he was just as awake in his sleep as he was during the day.

"I made applewood tea like you taught me to today, and the maids said it tasted good!" He puffed out proudly.

"Really?" He chuckled. Applewood tea was one of his favorites- he remembered how he often had Dantalion keep a mug of it nearby. He tipped it over often over his papers, but magic was useful for a reason. He wasn't a great magician (as Asteroth often jibbed) but he could manage a small spell like that.

"Yeah!" He crowed and tugged at the older man's clothes.

Solomon chuckled. "You're far too big now to ride on my shoulders," he berated. The child only pouted in response but continued on.

"And Kevin helped me peel the inner bark of the wood! He wouldn't let me touch Father's knives though," he reported, nodding. 

"You're much too young to handle knives, William- you'll hurt yourself," he looked down at the child clutching to his robes, feeling every year his age. He had heirs once upon a time- he was never close to them- was this what being a father felt like? Honestly, it was exhausting at times.

"Can I make some for you next time? I'm really good at it now!" the child insisted loudly.

"Maybe next time," he conceded, thinking of how he didn't even have a body to drink tea with. He didn't want to discourage the child from causing chaos though. It was honestly quite entertaining. "Did anything else happen today?"

William nodded, his hair turning even more of a rat's nest with the motion. "I made top of my class again in the exams, and I finished my homework really quickly today! Kevin promised me he would teach me how to identify all the bugs and plants around the garden!  

So that would explain his appearance, Solomon surmised. Kevin was someone he heard a lot about; he had refrained from taking over the child's body after that fateful day. Instead, he spent his time scrying and planning the future. Occasionally, he would see William's dreams when he wasn't in the dream world. He knew of the outside world from the small child and thus grew familiar with the people around him even though he didn't see the world from William's eyes. He knew to give the child privacy where he could.

"Congratulations," he smiled gently. "I'm proud of you." He ruffled William's hair, and the child beamed back at him.

* * *

He saw William's dreams sometimes. They're not all pleasant. Sometimes they're an innocent child's dreams, full of doll houses and flowers and bugs that squawk like chickens. Sometimes, they're... something else.

"Father! Father!" the screams echoed. As a spectator, Solomon could do nothing to wake him from the dreams. But even then, the world was black before them. The floor sloshed with an unidentified fluid. It smelled of copper.

"Mother!" William screamed, running and slipping on the blood in the dark. He ran, his short legs carrying him nowhere in the darkness. With lips pressed tight, Solomon could only watch with sad eyes- these were dreams no child should have. He observed as the child tripped over something- a piece of cloth that sent him stumbling face first into the blood.

He picked himself up, crying and gagging at the smell. A hand emerged from the folds of the cloth to grasp his ankle. He screamed, trying and failing to yank his leg free. An arm rose with the hand, and with it a torso and a head broken and bleeding.

"William, it's all your fault. You killed us! Why did you survive and not us?" A woman's voice moaned in pain. A closer inspection revealed that it was William's mother, dying in her last moments. 

"... No, no!" the small child scrambled backwards, yanking at his foot still.

"You'll lead the family to ruin," a broken body rose from the darkness and whispered into his ears. A dark hand of shadows caressed his face, covering the child's face completely. Soon, the screams became muffled, and the dream faded into nothing.

Solomon looked away, mourning the cruelty of fate. He didn't know whose fault it was, really.

When he saw William next, he gave the eight year old a long hug. If his robes got wet, he never mentioned it.

* * *

He was nine years old when the dreams started. He has known Solomon for a while now, ever since the accident. It was odd, how no one saw Solomon but him. The maids were almost convinced they ought to call a doctor when William asked them if they saw a blonde man called Solomon. When he complained about the maids' stupidity to the king one day, he only chuckled.

"No one can see you but me, William. You're special that way."

"But they don't believe me!" the seven year old said, frustrated beyond belief. 

"You don't need them to," Solomon said calmly. "If you know- if you believe, you don't need any other person to do so as well."

Getting praise from Solomon was always the highlight of William's day, but he never told anyone else about Solomon after that. In an odd way, he was happy that Solomon was his secret and his alone- a confident who would always have time for him, who didn't mind that he broke the rules constantly and let him roam free and be a child. He was almost the cooler uncle that he never had (not that Uncle Barton wasn't cool, but no one was as awesome as Solomon who seemed to know everything and still wants to know more). When he mentioned it hesitantly to the man, he only received a blink and a laugh.

"I'm far older than your uncle, Child." 

"You look younger though," William pointed out with the blunt honesty of a child. 

Sharp as a tack that one, Solomon thought, privately amused that his current incarnation thought that he looked better than the Rider of Pestilence.

Solomon wasn't very fond of Uncle Barton (William wasn't quite sure why- Solomon will always be the cooler uncle anyways no matter what ancient books and artefacts Uncle Barton brings home), and he seems fascinated by Kevin.

"He's really tall," William confessed. "I want to be that tall one day," he pouted.

"I'm sure you will be," the man said mildly. He knew that William probably won't get all that tall if he takes after him at all, but he won't dash the kid's hopes and dreams. 

"He's been around for a long time! He was going to go be a lawyer in London, but he stayed for me." William said one day, watching the sunset over Jerusalem with his legs dangling over the ledge.

"He could still be one," Solomon said gently. "He's still young, and you'll be off to boarding school soon."

"I guess," he looked down guiltily.

"I'm sure he doesn't blame you," Solomon said, thinking of the kind man who stayed with the child after his parents death. Oftentimes, William would run to Solomon babbling about what "awesome and amazing thing" Kevin had done that day or how he was really good at gardening and could read Latin really well or how he knew his scriptures like the back of his hand. He thought of how the young man would help his charge escape priests and strict schoolteachers alike and knew that William must bring Kevin just as much joy as he does Solomon.

William nodded, still a bit guilty. "By the way, I dreamed of you yesterday."

Solomon paused. "You dream of me every day, here."

The child shook his head. "No, not here where I'm talking to you. You looked a lot like me when you were my age, right?"

He froze. It can't be- surely, it was too soon. "It's more the other way around, but yes."

"You had a sister named Tamar too, right? She's really pretty!" William crowed, not noticing Solomon's growing unease.

"She is," he echoed. Was, his mind corrected. William nodded, enthusiasm undimmed.

"You had way more books than you do now, but I couldn't open any of them. I called your name, but you didn't see me or recognize me, so it must have been a dream," the child reasoned.

"A memory," Solomon said quietly. "What you saw was my memory."

"Huh, I wonder how that happened." William cocked his head in confusion.

"How indeed," the king mused. Looks like fate would not even spare this small child from disaster, he thought with grief. He didn't want William to die. Was it too much to ask, for this idyllic life to continue for just a while longer? Just yesterday, he was but a small toddler, just a little over six, looking for his dead father. In the span of these three years, he had lived far more than he had in the past thirty years, slumbering in different incarnations of himself. He saw sunshine in the bright laughter of this child. He saw bravery and courage and stubbornness that rivaled his own. Truthfully, he didn't want the child to inherit his curse. William Twining was what he could have been, had he been born to a different family in a different time. He didn't want that joy to disappear.

With a hardened heart, he knew that he would just have to do his best to make sure William will weather through whatever demons and angels may put him through (Is it possible, that this curse might have an end? He didn't dare to hope.)

* * *

"Are you really the wise king of Israel?" Ten year old William Twining asked one day, sitting next to Solomon.

"I am," he admitted honestly. "What makes you ask?"

"We got to your name in the Bible in church today," he answered.

"I thought you got to that part a long time ago," the other man chuckled. It was fascinating to know what happened after his death, with the rise and fall of God's son (perhaps a particular human who caught God's eye? That Gabriel, the General of White Lilies, be the one to bring news to the mortal in question was rather unusual.)

The child was silent for a while, looking down at this toes. "I'm having troubles with my Bible studies," he finally admitted.

"With which part?" he asked, holding back laughter. Of course his incarnation would have problems with God.

"I yelled at the pastor today. I told him that God doesn't exist and the world is made of atoms." He said matter-of-fact, having only recently learned of the existence of atoms.

He couldn't help it- he burst out laughing. 

"What?" William pouted, an expression far too cute on a face that was beginning to lose its baby fat. "Kevin had me write lines in Latin, and he never makes me do that!"

Solomon looked at William's upset face and laughed louder.

"Who was this King David anyway? He sounds stupid." William muttered angrily. Solomon stopped laughing.

Ten year old William Twining learned that day not to never bring up Solomon's past, if only to avoid seeing that look on his trusted mentor's face.

* * *

"I'm going to start teaching you magic today, William," Solomon said one summer day. He had in his arms a number off books and scrolls.

"Magic doesn't exist," the now preteen said, busy working out his latest lesson in the dream world. "The world is-"

"-made of atoms, yes," the king interrupted. "But there are things that cannot be explained by science."

William looked up, a rebuttal on his tongue, only to see that the king was completely serious. He trusted Solomon enough by now to know when he was joking and when he was not.

"It doesn't exist," he insisted stubbornly.

Solomon sighed. "How else can you explain all this then?" He turned his head in a vague gesturing way towards the surroundings, which felt very real to William's mind. "Unless you believe what the doctors told you years ago? That you went mad with grief? That I am merely a hallucination you made up, despite knowing far more than you can possibly imagine or explain?"

William was silent, his chin jutting out stubbornly. He could see hesitance in the child's eyes, but it would take some more work to convince him fully.

"If you claim to be the scientist that you are- then the least you can do is to experiment to disprove a theory, not to reject a claim without proof. At least learn it first to disprove it." He persuaded.

"... Fine, but only to disprove you." He huffed. 

This is turning out to be a very long year, Solomon thought tiredly. Hopefully his charge will have more magical talent than he did in his youth.

* * *

William turns out to be abysmal in all things magical, much to Solomon's dismay. It seems like he takes after his distant ancestor far more than he does either of his parents. He still sees Solomon's memories in his dreams. The venerable King David was but a blinded, prideful old man who would not accept the existence of his sin. He saw the lonely Solomon grow into an even lonelier King Solomon, surrounded by people he didn't care about.

Logically, he knew that it was impossible for him to dream up such an elaborate life story, unless he really was hallucinating. Yet, despite all reasoning, he had a hunch- an inexplicable feeling- that Solomon is real. That everything he dreamed of did happen. That the demon names and faces he saw in dreams do exist.

He touched the ring on his finger absently. He never took it off, from the day his father told him to put it on with his dying breath. He hid the ring's existence from everyone- not Uncle Barton, not Kevin, not the maids- none of them knew that it existed. Solomon is his secret alone, and he will not have him taken away (the king explained that he was connected to the ring, after sitting through three hours of the child genius' theories on how neuroanatomy and biophysics can explain the dreams somehow).

He practiced his magic in the dream worlds, not daring to even touch chalk in the real world. Who knows what the pastor would do? He only had harsh memories of the church, with lines upon lines of Latin and grammar that would make any child cry. He had no desire to go there beyond the bare minimum requirement or social niceties. In his dreams, he drew and redrew the pentacles and diagrams that would call to the seventy two pillars of his venerable ancestor. He was privately happy, each time he successfully memorized another diagram or performed another spell successfully. Praise from Solomon always made him feel a thousand times more capable than he was, and more often than not, he'd overreach in his next spell and have to start from the beginning.

He doesn't regret feeling happy though- someone was genuinely proud of him. Even if he didn't believe in God or magic or demons, he would still learn what Solomon had to teach him, if only to hear him say "Good job."

Occasionally, they would discuss demons instead. They would talk of whatever demons William saw in his dreams as of late- of Dantalion bringing Solomon jugs of tea and cleaning up after this spilled piles of books. He dreamed how Solomon collected his demons, one by one, and how he had their undying loyalty- one way or another. He saw Asteroth at parties- an ancient mother in law of sorts- Baalberith watching over a Sytry dancing through the fields of golden wheat. He took comfort in the pillars, knowing that no angel of retribution will take them away.

How odd is it, that the angel looked oddly familiar in his dreams. When he mentioned it to Solomon- that he couldn't quite place his finger on it- the older man only looked pensive.

Solomon was perhaps grateful that William had not quite stumbled upon his exact relationship with Dantalion quite yet, but he supposes it was only a matter of time until the observant child had some uncomfortable questions to ask. He shuddered.

* * *

Uriel observed the newest incarnation of Solomon soul's with a critical eye. He first met the child on his parent's funeral, where the child had come to him for comfort.

Angel of penance, cruel sadist or not, he couldn't help but hold the child tight and let him cry on his shoulders. He was but a child of barely six years old- no sinner of any sort. Solomon's curse had taken yet another family, and even ‘til now, it ties him down in duty and obligation. Yet, he does not regret losing his wings. 

Now looking at the preteen busy pouring over textbooks far above his level, he couldn't but help to be proud. He had pretty much raised the child on his own- with his uncle always abroad and the real Kevin Cecil sent to fulfill his dreams in London. He was a handful, for a child. Vivacious and energetic, stubborn and brilliant, little William Twining always managed to get into trouble and yet weasel his way out of any substantial punishment (by his account anyways). He was off to a successful life with a bright future in front of him. With a strong sense of morals, justice, and responsibility, the angelic patron of England couldn’t see anyone better to be the future Prime Minister.

He hasn't quite found Solomon's ring, but he knew that watching over Solomon's bloodline was just as important. If the two were to ever meet, Solomon may yet be revived. Little William Twining was nothing like Solomon, and Uriel would fight with all his might to keep it that way.

* * *

At seventeen, William Twining could feel his future going down the drain. His uncle had gone bankrupt, and he couldn't find a way to pay his last year's school fees without any of his family assets. He planned to become a lawyer, and from that, a politician. Now he couldn't do anything at all without any of his noble family's assets. Surely, there remains something that could be sold off.

He could feel Solomon stirring from his sleep in the back of his mind, rising to the feel of his charge's panic. He knew he would have quite a bit to explain later when he fell to his dream world, as per usual for the past eleven years. Perhaps the elder man will have some advice for him or some secretly hidden tomb that he can liquidate? It was a bit farfetched to even hope.

He burst through a wooden door in his basement rashly, looking for anything that may be hidden there. In his haste, he cut his hands, which now dripped with blood.

"Young Master," Kevin rushed in after him.

"It's just a cut," he said absently, waving away the concern. The blood dripped to the floor, and a very familiar diagram lit up on the floor. His breath caught. This was the moment to prove everything he had learned in the past decade. In the back of his mind, he wondered- who put it there? Who drew this and put it behind a locked wooden door with no key? And to put a glass vase behind the door, where it can easily fall over and break?

He could feel Kevin grabbing him from behind, protecting him from the rush of the summoning. He didn't care for that though. He knew that no demon would harm him- not his demons.

"I've waited many years, but I've finally found the one who has Solomon's soul. Rejoice- I have chosen you! I am Dantalion, the Duke who commands the 36th army of Hell. I am also a candidate to succeed the throne in the demon world!" A familiar voice announced. William's heart skipped a beat- he was the same voice from his dreams. This was the proof that he never dreamed Solomon up. 

To the side, Kevin was looking decidedly unimpressed. Shouldn't he be shocked? William thought in the back of his mind. He certainly was surprised at a random man appearing in his basement in a tattered coat and odd costume.

William was silent, observing Dantalion and Kevin alike. "I know," he said finally. "You've grown, Dantalion."

Kevin's blood drained out of his face, and Dantalion looked gobsmacked. They looked at each other, angel and demon for once having the same thoughts. How did this happen?


	2. Chapter 2

It could be comical, if the situation wasn't so dire, William thought as he sat next to a still-pale Kelvin and across a still-gobsmacked demon lord. Kevin was oddly tense, he thought as he observed his normally placid butler. Solomon was fully awake now, for sure. He could feel his mentor's presence stir from his mind. He couldn't quite see through their shared pair of eyes, but he could still observe to the best of his capability.

"How- how do you know me?" Dantalion asked uncertainly, despite being in no place to demand answers of any sort. He was seated in a rather bare dining room, a cup of herbal tea before him that was the exact same one from Solomon's studies. It was unnerving.

William considered his question carefully and wondered where to start his explanation. "It's a long story," he admitted. "Perhaps the beginning would be the best." He sipped his tea with his eyes closed, an action he learned from the many tea parties he had with Solomon.

"I am Lord William Twining, currently seventeen years old." His bright green eyes never left Dantalion's crimson ones. "My family is descended of King Solomon, as you can probably tell."

The demon nodded, waving a hand, indicating that he should continue. Kevin was still motionless with shock, and his expression was unreadable.

"My family has been a carrier of Solomon's soul for a very long time. Up until I was six, I was a normal child. When I was six, my parents were killed in a carriage accident, and Solomon's soul moved from my father to me. It so happened that Uncle Barton is a famous archeologist and chanced upon this particular ring in Ethiopia and brought it back."

Here, William held up his right hand, on which wore Solomon's infamous ring. It was a rusted and tattered thing, blood stained and barely worth anything to those not knowing of its history. Dantalion leapt forth, one hand slamming on the table. He spilled his cup of tea, the porcelain falling on its side with a clatter.

"That's Solomon's ring!" He breathed. At the same time, Kevin tensed at the sudden movement, his eyes wide at the ring he had been trusted by Michael to guard. Was this Solomon talking? Would Michael have him smite Solomon once more? Given the choice again, will he make the same one again and lose his other wing. 

"Young Master... How do you have this ring?" He asked. William considered the question and looked at his long time friend, blind to his internal turmoil. Perhaps he had some secrets to share as well, given Solomon's memories. He traced a rune int he air with one finger, and both the teacup and the tea righted itself. Dantalion glanced at the teacup. So the child knew magic, he thought. Could he have learned it from Solomon?

"My father had it on him when he was dying," he admitted after a pause. "With his dying breath, he told me to put on the ring and never take it off. He said it would protect me, and he isn't wrong."

Slowly, Dantalion sat back down, and William continued his story. "Nothing dramatic happened after that. I began seeing odd things, like faeries, in the back garden. I took a liking to herbal tea, and I began having odd dreams. I dreamt of an ancient city in the desert, of a great temple overseeing the sunset. All the walls were made of white stone, and there were great towers above the temple- towers filled to the ceiling with books and scrolls."

Recognizing the description for what it was, Kevin looked away. How many times have he visited those very towers only to strike at Solomon?

"In my dreams, I saw a man- he looked so much like my father that my six year old self mistook him as such. He wasn't my father, but he looked after me from that time on. He said he'd take care of me, and he did. I started crying when I realized that he wasn't my father, but he let me cry on his shoulder." William reminisced fondly, one hand under his chin. It was just like Solomon to adopt strays even after his death, Dantalion thought exasperatedly.

"Do you remember when I slept a lot after my parents' death, Kevin?" William asked idly, looking up at his butler with child-like green eyes.

"Ah... Yes," Kevin replied robotically, his mind still stuck on the fact that William knew of Solomon's existence since he was six.

William nodded. "I went to the dream world every time I went to sleep. I remember- Solomon had a really big lion there, and I'd climb all over the lion and tug at his tail and ears and run up and down the halls of the temple. It must have been quite lonely to be all by himself," he wondered.

"It is," Dantalion affirmed- that much he could attest to. The giant lion in question happened to be one of Solomon's pillars who perished in one of the demon wars. Perhaps, if he were to die one day, he would be together with Solomon in his incarnations? He could only wish. 

"We talked a lot, and I'd run up to him every night to tell him all about my day. It was a lot of fun- he's a really cool uncle, and he likes you a lot, Kevin," William grinned over the brim of his cup. Next to him, Kevin jerked in his seat in surprise. Solomon? Taking a liking Uriel the angel of Penance? Preposterous. A person like him doesn't deserve forgiveness.

"He says I'm good for you, whatever that means," William shrugged. "He says I need someone to keep me in line- which I don't. But anyhow, I digress. I started having dreams of Solomon's memories when I was nine years old. I dreamed of his days as a child, locked in the tower King David made for him. I dreamed of his sister bringing him food and water every day. And later on, I dreamed of his days as a king, surrounded by all sorts of demons. It was like I lived a different life entirely," he said wondrously. "What a life I would have had, if I lived in a different time."

Dantalion looked away- Solomon had often said the same thing to him. He supposed the king got his wish now.

Kevin waited on baited breath for the moment when William would say that there was an angel in his memories, but he never did.

"I don't have all his memories quite yet," William admitted. "But since then on, Solomon's been teaching me about magic- I'm not a good magician at all."

"He wasn't either," Dantalion muttered with a touch of fondness in his tone. It was always a sore point with Astaroth, that his however many times son in law wasn't strong magically. Privately, he thought that there was no reason for Solomon to have to lift a finger when he has seventy two demon nobles under his command.

"I know all my diagrams and pentacles. I haven't summoned at all until today, but I don't think that one counts. In any case, I only learned magic to disprove the theory that Gods and demons and angels exist." William said boldly, ignoring the fact that a demon lord was sitting in front of him (and that a seraph was sitting next to him as well). 

Kevin could only laugh helplessly at the absurdity of the situation. Of course this wasn't Solomon talking. Only the Young Master can be this stubborn to still ignore the existence of the supernatural when Solomon himself has failed to convince him otherwise for the past ten years and more. What grief he must have caused the magician! He felt a shred of hope, that perhaps if Solomon hasn't taken over, that William may yet be saved from heaven's wrath.

"I'm not Solomon, I am William Twining. I won't make the same decisions that he will, nor will I make the same mistakes. I'm sorry for your loss, but your king will not be coming back," William said calmly to Dantalion, his gaze understanding and steady. He looked away. "In any case, please do take some time to digest the information that I have just given you. I have something that I need to see to very quickly."

William rose from his seat, and with him, Kevin. 

"William..." Kevin began as they began to head back to the basement, his expression grim. 

"I know that you probably have something you need to tell me," William sighed and stopped. "I won't ask why there's an angel who looks familiar to you in my dreams. There are only two things that I need to know right now: Are you going to kill me?" 

The look of utter horror on Kevin's face was reply enough, but the older man was quick to respond vehemently. "No!"

"Okay," William said calmly. "Secondly, are you the Kevin I know? The one to let me experiment on herbal teas and help me hide from the pastor when he's angry? The Kevin who can run the gardeners out of a job, who wins at every horse racing bet?"

Uriel saw that the young human's eyes were earnest and soft, steady and staring firmly at him without looking away. "Yes," he replied. He wasn't perhaps the same Kevin who William knew before he was six, but all those things he said- that he did.

"Then it doesn't matter who you were before," William smiled and turned his back, continuing his way down to the basement. "I'm not Solomon. Who you were before- who you were to him- doesn't matter to me. To me, you are Kevin Cecil, the irreplaceable and loyal butler of of the Twining household who helped raise me after my parents passed on. I never said I was thankful, but I am. Thank you for raising me, Kevin."

In that moment, with the light shining bright on seventeen year old William Twining, Uriel the Seraph of Penance felt the grace of God for the first time in his long life, and it had nothing to do with Heaven. To have found peace in the Twining household, looking after this bright and cheerful child... it is perhaps him who should be thankful.

* * *

 "Young Master, why are you here?" Kevin asked curiously, and not up with the potentially dangerous demon lord, he finished in his mind.

William opened the door cautiously and kneeled down to the floor where the pentacle was drawn in chalk. He held the lamp over the chalk lines, inspecting the handwriting closely. Kevin waited by the stairs, wondering what the boy was doing.

"I want to see if I can find out who drew that pentacle," William answered. "Someone knew that I, or another of Solomon's descent, would eventually venture here. Why else would they have drawn such a pentacle in an unlit basement, to summon Dantalion of all demons, and make it so that even a complete magical novice will cut himself and bleed over it? Who could have access to the manor to do such a thing?" 

Now that William mentioned it, Uriel could see the logic. "I can't recall such a room before," he added, digging through his memory for the possible culprits. He touched his lip, trying to remember who could have wandered here.

"Neither can I, and I know almost every corner of the manor. " William admitted.

"You would, given the amount of trouble you got into," Kevin said drily.

"I could always count on you to bail me out, of course," the lordling pronounced arrogantly, his nose in the air.

"Of course," Kevin chuckled. This was the William Twining he knew, a child without the weight of the world on his shoulders. 

Serious once more, William ran a finger against the chalk to see if any dust would stick on his fingers. "Hm... The chalk doesn't flake off. It must have been here for a while. There are some part of this I don't quite understand yet. Perhaps it's best to get Dantalion to see what he makes of his?" 

"Something that you don't know?" Kevin mock gasped. Nonetheless, he descended the stairs and knelt to look at the chalk lines. Indeed, it appeared to be a script written for demons- he couldn't make heads or tails out of it otherwise. If it was written in Enochian, he could decode it easily.

"I'm sure there's plenty I don't know," William joked. "Of course, I don't have all of Solomon's memory yet, otherwise I'm sure I wouldn't need Dantalion's help at all. I don't get to choose which memories I see in my sleep." 

Privately, Kevin was beyond grateful that William didn't have all of Solomon's memory. He would much prefer it if he didn't have any of Solomon's memories to begin with. Of course, there wasn't much to be done about that now. Before he could do more than to hover, the pentacle activated, and the shadows grew quickly to ensnare William by the waist and face, and the boy was pulled into the portal.

His lantern dropped to the ground beside him. Silently, Uriel could only run to the dining room- he needed that damned demon to do something other than sit. When he got to the dining room, he only found a single chair toppled over and the demon duke nowhere to be found.

* * *

"Where on Earth..." William got up from the floor, where he had fell. He rubbed the lump on his head and wondered if he had a concussion. He wasn't quite expecting his basement to open up into an unknown dimension for a second time today, but he'll make a note to put some very sturdy furniture in that room to at least fill up the space if he can't erase the pentacle.

"Well, you are an unusual guest", said a goat in a three piece suit behind him. The goat was dressed professionally as a butler of some sort.

"No more than you are, Mr. Goat," William rebutted immediately, his mouth not quite receiving the inhibitory signal it was supposed to receive from his brain. He stared straight at the talking goat, not backing down int he slightest.

"No more than a human in hell, Lord William Twining," the goat elaborated, chuckling slightly. 

"How do you know my name?" William asked suspiciously.

"Have you met my master? The exceptional grand duke of hell, his excellency Dantalion," the goat asked.

"Just Dantalion," was the automatic reply. He couldn't think of the person who fetched water jugs for Solomon as a grand anything. "You seem to have me at a bit of a disadvantage. May I have your name?" Never be it said that William Twining was raised in a barn.

The goat chuckled again. "I take it that you have then. My name is Bapthomet, Duke Dantalion's butler." 

"It's nice to meet you," William said easily. "I wouldn't want to impose, but I do need to get home before I give my own butler an aneurysm. I was inspecting an unknown pentacle in the basement of my house when I suddenly got dragged in into hell, or wherever this is, and I haven't a clue how to get home. I presume there aren't any carriages out of hell?" he asked. He honestly wasn't expecting much, but his day has been topsy-turvy, to say the least.

"No," the goat laughed. "I'm afraid you'll have to wait until Duke Dantalion gets home to send you back. Perhaps you'd like some tea in the meanwhile?"

"Please," he said automatically, noticing that he had skipped his lunch with all the excitement that happened today. "And do tell Dantalion not to find me again- it won't do him any good."

"But my master went all that way to find you, even if the political situation is quite uncertain!" Bapthomet said, aghast while setting down a couple of cakes in front of William.

"Political situation?" He asked while happily cutting himself a slice. "Come to think of it, he never did explain why he wanted to find me to begin with. I assumed that it was purely because I was Solomon's descendant, but I guess not?"

Baphthomet stared at the teen who was happily chewing his way through half a cake and sighed. There is going to be a lot of explaining to do. 

* * *

"So there is to be an election in hell because Lucifer is going to sleep, and he has said that Solomon's descendant will choose because Solomon himself is long dead," William summed up.

Baphthomet nodded, mentally noting to make more cakes as this human seemed to put it all away at a phenomenal speed. He had heard that human food was disgusting, but to to think that the young lord must have been on the brink of starvation.

"And Dantalion is one of the three chosen candidates, along with Sytry and most likely Camio." William held his head in his hands. What happened to the child frolicking in the fields again? There seems to be a bit of a disconnect between his memories and the present day. "This is a very strange day. Why would they choose all three from the pillars though, knowing that they are all bound to Solomon? Wouldn't an unbound demon be better?"

That, was a good question, Bapthomet thought. One that he didn't have the answers to. The goat could empathize, if this wasn't a perfectly normal day in hell. Little did William know, it was about to get much stranger when the wall behind him suddenly burst into pieces in an explosion that blew away the table (and the cakes with it).

"Good evening!~ Sorry to interrupt your conversation." An odd person with a face tattoo and a purple hat appeared where the wall once stood.

"Do people in hell not believe in knocking?" William muttered, a bit miffed at the sudden appearance of another weirdo. Bapthomet chuckled but moved in front of him in protection nonetheless.

"Gilles de Rais. Unfortunately, my master isn't here," he said.

William thought for a moment from behind Bapthomet, the name striking him as familiar. "Not the Bluebeard, dead four hundred years?" he spoke out loud, self-preserving instincts momentarily forgotten. 

"Oh? Someone remembers me? And a human in hell to boot! It's been a long time! Has Dantalion gotten homesick?" He hovered uncomfortably close to William's face. 

"Not quite," he said, staring right back at the notorious murderer. He was a bit more than irked, having his meal disrupted.

"I suppose I'll just have to take this boy instead then," he said with a dramatic sigh. With a snap of his fingers, William was floating in the air.

"None of that please," he said firmly before he got nauseous. He flipped through his repertoire of spells and incanted one that would float him gently back to the ground. He crossed his arms as he planted his feet on the ground, decidedly unimpressed with the Frenchman's games.

"Oho, the little human knows magic!" Gilles sang. "Well, let's see you handle this!" He hurled a fireball straight in William's path. In a moment of panic, William threw up the strongest shield he knew, bracing for the impact.

It never came. When he opened his eyes, Dantalion was crouched in front of him and not single hair singed. He blocked the attack and flung Gilles straight back into a wall on the opposite side.

"Are you okay, William?" Dantalion asked, concern evident in his eyes. He held the boy by the shoulder, looking to see if there were any visible injuries on him. 

"Fine," he said, brushing a bit of plaster dust off his sleeve.

"Master, the house," Baphomet reminded Dantalion.

"Ah yes," he snapped a finger, and the house readily rebuilt itself. Minus the cakes, much to William's displeasure.

Far sooner than William thought was possible, Gilles dug himself out of a wall, and the battle between political opponents in hell continued. He was willing to let the baiting and roughhousing last, however the fighting was getting to be a bit too much, he thought as he dodged yet another carriage sized chunk of granite flooring. He wondered what the point of repairing the floor was if it was just going to get blown to pieces again.

Especially since Dantalion was beginning to lose control. Thinking of the bond Solomon had with his pillars, he commanded strongly,

"Stop, Dantalion!" And like a charm, the demon's power slipped away from his fingers like water. It was truly genius, how Solomon built his contract to be foolproof in every way. 

"Gilles de Rais!" William said strictly, putting on his best impression of an unimpressed schoolmistress. "You are not welcome here, lest you want me to turn you into a pillar as well?" He wasn't sure what the Bluebeard saw in his eyes (was it Solomon?) but whatever it was, he hastily made his retreat.

"William... How did you do that? Are you even human?" Dantalion shook him roughly by the shoulders.

"One hundred percent." He said, still irked. "Now, if you will, this human has to get back before his butler comes down here and retrieves him from hell for being late to dinner."

Little did he know how true that statement was.

* * *

"Be quiet," the old professor yelled to get order in the classroom. "Ah, today we are going to have a transfer student."

"A transfer student?" William asked, a bit less bored now. He held his chin with his hand, bored beyond belief. School often was a chore for the child genius, and life was dull.

"It's a bit unusual to get transfer students at this time of the year," Isaac added, looking as confused as William did.

"My name is Dantalion Huber, pleased to meet you! I hope we'll get along," the last person William ever wanted to see said winsomely.

William could hear what's left of his sanity fly out the window. He only wished his could flee to his mind and cling onto Solomon like he used to as a child. Maybe Solomon could get this nuisance to leave him alone.

He thought his mentor laugh for a second. Apparently not.

* * *

"So I see you met Dantalion," Solomon said, enjoying his wormwood tea atop his temple. He had a smirk playing at his lips. Dantalion was always his most faithful and trusted. At the end, he was the one who fulfilled his last wish, even though it cost the demon very much. While William probably would never know, Dantalion was probably very relieved to know that part of Solomon lived on.

"Met is a bit of an understatement," William said with a sigh, also enjoying his cup of tea. Times like this, he wished that he could stay in the dreamworld forever. He valued his mentor's opinion and wisdom; the other man had a patience and maturity that escaped William. There was still very much to learn.

The king chuckled at the face William pulled. "He's a bit of a handful," he said sympathetically. But so are you, the king mentally added. He was sure they would get along swimmingly.

"He's more than a handful. I almost got killed!" William whined, every bit the teenager he is.

"Would you have minded?" Solomon asked with a shrug and turned to observing his city. He knew that he wouldn't have minded. He whom the gods love dies young, he thought to himself.

"... No, but that's not the point!" William hung on stubbornly.

"His heart's in the right place- do forgive him, Child." Solomon patted him on the head gently, and despite his misgivings, William leaned into the touch.

"You two have history together, don't you?" William asked, looking up at Solomon, knowledge shining in his eyes.

"I have history with quite a few demons; you're going to have to be more specific," he joked good-naturedly. He was sure that William hasn't seen any of their more private memories.

"Not like the usual demons," the younger man said astutely. "There was something else there."

The king sighed. Trust his incarnation to be sharp as a tack and reach the right conclusion with only limited information "... Let me keep my memories for a while longer, William?"

"Of course," he acquiesced easily. "I didn't know that you lose your memories when I gain them."

"I do," he said gracefully. "But it's no great loss- some things are better left forgotten." A great many things, he thought. It's a burden that shouldn't be passed on, but he couldn't help but be relieved every time a memory leaves him. What will be left when they are all gone? He didn't know.

"Not everything," William insisted. Solomon smiled at his young protege. For a child so smart, there were still some things that William didn't understand. He was glad for that, at least.

"Are you angry, that I got you dragged into this war with demons and angels?" Solomon asked casually. He observed the child closely.

"Not as mad as you seem to think I'll be, judging by your reaction," William replied. "You can't help who ends up as your descendants, and you don't seem to want this cycle of rebirth anymore than I do."

"You could die here," the king was solemn. It was very likely that he would, if Lucifer got involved.

"I could die anywhere," William snorted. "Memento mori."

"You can't tell me you possibly believe in the afterlife," Solomon chuckled, knowing the realist well, having spent the past decade living inside his head. It was worse than prying at a clam, getting the teen to admit that magic happened outside the realm of science and mathematics.

"No, I believe in living well. But everyone must die once. Whether I die now or I die later would not matter if I made the most of life. I had my time with my parents. I have Kevin. I have you. For what it's worth, I'm happy with my life," William said nonchalantly.

Solomon smiled down at him. He grew up well, he thought. It's too bad that he's but a pawn on the board that he started a long time ago. A game that was beginning to draw to an end. He dearly wished that William could get to the end of the board and become a king in his own right- at least then he would not be sacrificed needlessly.

* * *

That troublesome demon! William gritted his teeth, fuming as he stomped his way back to dorm. For all of his concern about the damned demon, he was off rowing and playing sports with that bunch of muscle heads!

See if I care if he gets exorcised, William spat in his mind. His hands curled into fists as he sat down in his armchair and whipped out his newest homework assignment.

You do care, came a voice that sounded reminiscent of his beloved mentor.

Do not, he replied insistently with the maturity of one half his age.

"And now I'll have to figure out a way to raise funds for my next school term," he sighed, feeling Atlas' own weight on his shoulders. He abandoned his work fell onto his bed with an oomph and hugged his pillow tight, wanting to fall into his dream world and escape this nightmarish world for just a while longer. He was no longer a child, no matter how much he wished otherwise.

A knock came at his door. 

"What?!" he shouted, his patience all spent. "Oh, it's you, Isaac. Look, I don't have time for more of your occult talk, alright? I'm really busy." Really, the boy was only a human with an unhealthy obsession for the occult. What he was learning was just kids' play, if he wanted to be honest with himself. It was almost sad, watching his attempts at summoning. How did he make friends with this weirdo again? It was probably Solomon's fault one way or another.

"It's not that..." Isaac's voice was unusually small.

"Good day, upperclassman." A vaguely familiar voice said and entered his room. "My name is Sytry Cartwright, but please call me Sytry."

William blinked as the words processed in his mind and then promptly fell out of his bed.

* * *

"Sytry?! What are you doing here?" William said the moment he pushed Isaac out and casted an anti eavesdropping spell.

"Do I know you?" He said, sniffing and turning his head away daintily. He reached a manicured hand into the plate of biscuits on the table.

"Sytry, twelfth pillar of the seventy two pillars of Solomon, viscount and twelfth noble of hell, commander of sixty legions of demons in hell, nephew of Baalberith, king of hell. How have you been? You were just a tiny demon when I saw you last in the fields of Jerusalem. Tell me, is your uncle doing well?" William sighed, draping himself over the armchair much like how Solomon used to. "And don't get crumbs on my work," he added as an afterthought.

"... Solomon?" Sytry gaped. The biscuit dropped from his hand.

"Not quite. I'm his descendant, Lord William Twining. I hold his soul inside of me. He sends his greetings by the way, and says that you are just as lovely as you used to be as a child," William said, deliberately unbalancing the demon. Solomon, of course, did no such thing, but demons aren't the only beings who can manipulate people. He tilted his right hand, deliberately letting him see that he did indeed have his ancestor's ring. 

"Gilles did say that you know magic," Sytry surmised. William pulled a face at the thought of the other demon. Sytry chuckled- it was a common reaction.

"I know a bit- Solomon's been teaching me," he shrugged, letting the shadows fall over his face. "Bapthomet told me that you're one of the candidates for substitute king. Did Baalberith put you to this? Has he even slept since Solomon died?" William asked sharply, knowing far more than he had a right to, between Solomon's lessons on demons and Bapthomet's information. 

Sytry hesitated to answer. This did not go as he has planned. Rather than intimidating or seducing the elector into picking him for substitute, now he was the one backed into a corner.

He was about to answer, only to be interrupted by a shrill scream outside the dormitories.

"Isaac!" William leapt from his seat, seriousness forgotten. He rushed out the door and to the stairway. "Great, what has he done now?" he bemoaned the stupidity of his friend.

Sytry blinked. It seems like the elector may still have his humanity yet, he thought and followed William out in a more languid pace. Certainly, Solomon was never the one to move at a pace faster than a brisk walk.

* * *

"Isaac!" William shouted when he was near the woods. Sytry drifted behind him, close enough to protect William if need be but not quite close enough to care. The human boy was just barely an amateur at summoning. He doubted he could control more than an imp. He wasn't at all surprised that he would summon something far beyond his control.

"Here!" came a terrified shriek.

William nearly sagged in relief. Good gods, he has had just enough excitement for the day. What manner of supernatural critter has Isaac summoned this time? Given that he shared headspace with an ancient king who summoned and bound seventy two of Hell's highest nobles into servitude, he really wasn't going to be impressed by whatever Isaac had to come up with.

"Great a demon dog and a demon hog," William face palmed when he saw Isaac run up a tree. He was sure there was a proper name for them somewhere, but he couldn't be bothered to care.

"Would you like me to take care of it?" Sytry drifted down. "Tell me you'll choose me, and you'll never see those demons again."

"If you could," the upperclassman said tiredly. "And I'm not choosing anyone. I'm not Solomon, and like hell am I picking after his messes."

"Of course I can," Sytry said indignantly. "I suppose I'll just have to prove to you that I'm the best candidate."

Three miscommunications, a half ruined forest and a smoking slab of stone later, William was beginning to think that he can't handle it.

"Stop, you two!" he shouted, his headache turning into a dull roar.

"My magic..." Sytry said in wonder. He no longer questioned the authenticity of William as Solomon's incarnation, if he could bind him much like how Solomon used to.

"I. Am going to go to sleep because I have morning roll call at seven in the morning, and I haven't slept a wink! Don't find me and don't disturb me!" William said loudly, stomping his way angrily out of the woods. 

"Solomon's heir, huh," Sytry said dumbly, blinking. The kid isn't joking- for a child his age, he commands quite a lot of power.

"He's just a kid," Dantalion sighed. After a moment, Sytry laughed. Solomon this time around is just a kid with a temper. He didn't think Solomon could be so lively. William Twining- how interesting, he thought.

* * *

"Upperclassman! Upperclassman! Hurry, it's an emergency!" A short young boy with long red bangs called to William and Isaac. Immediately, his sense of propriety kicked in, and he left the two troublesome arguing demons on their own.

"What is it now? Lead me there." He commanded strongly, tugging Isaac after him. The boy paused for a second as if evaluating them both before running off towards an empty section of the school.

"Why would anyone be there?" William wondered to himself as he chased after the surprisingly fast boy. Something seems odd.

They turned the corner into an empty classroom only to see the boy gone altogether. He looked down and saw the pentacle chalked on the floor light up. The only thought he had was 'shit, not again' before he was dropped head first into the demon world once more.

* * *

"I didn't think we would meet as I'm about to enter my 106th rest," a whispery voice said in his dream. He saw a shower of feathers rustling all about him. He reached out to touch one of them only to have it fall through his hands. A dream then, he gathered.

"I'm going to begin my rest now", the voice said. He spied Solomon standing at the edge of the long staircase, a single feather caressing his chin.

"Wait for me," the voice said gently. Who is this person beneath the mass of feathers, William wondered. He couldn't quite see the face underneath.

"Unfortunately, I'll no longer be around in a hundred years. That's why this is goodbye, Lucifer," Solomon whispered, leaning into the feathery touch. What? William gasped.

With a start, William woke with tears at the corner of his eyes. He felt as if he had just witnessed something terribly intimate. Another one of Solomon's memories...? Would that be Lucifer then? How did his mentor know him? 

"Ah, you're awake now! You just collapsed and scared me!" Isaac tearfully said.

"Get off, Isaac," William said grumpily as he shoved his friend off. "Where are we this time?" he asked, resigned that his life is a circus.

"Don't worry, Elector. This is my battleship. You're safe here," a sultry female voice said behind him. He turned around to the a tan Egyptian woman in a midriff bearing outfit. 

"Astaroth," William said, rubbing his head. Isaac openly gaped. He wonders if his overenthusiastic friend is going to ask for Astaroth's autograph. "How are you? You look well enough."

She paused for only a second, kohl lined eyes wide. "So you do remember me, Solomon!" she crowed, running over and engulfing him in a hug. 

"Solomon?" Isaac gasped. He was more or less unheard.

"I'm not Solomon," William said for what seemed like the dozenth time today. He struggled his way out of Astaroth's hold. "I'm his current incarnation. I'm not him."

"You have his memories though," the queen pointed out.

"Some, not all." William shrugged, ignoring Isaac's pestering. He adjusted his tie and his clothes, which were in a disarray

"I see... Well, I suppose it was nostalgic seeing you again," she said, smoothing down her hair, seemingly a bit put out.

"I do need to go home soon," he agreed with the queen. Preferably now, he thought.

"Not so fast!" A childish voice declared from the door.

What is it this time? "Who are you?" William asked, just about done with the absurdity that is his life.

"I won't forgive you for using your position as elector to deceive my Dantalion! I am Lamia, 77th in the hierarchy, and my court rank is Princess! I'm the fiancé of demon duke Dantalion," Lamia yelled with a blush.

Instead of addressing the princess in front of him, William looked disbelieving to Astaroth, who looked a bit sheepish. "Who is she? How old is she?"

"She's my daughter. I had her after your death," Astaroth waved the question away. So a very young child then, by demon standards, William thought. 

"With...?" He hedged.

"Beezelbulb." Astaroth pouted and looked away with a blush.

"You got married? To him?" He was sure that if Solomon wasn't busy congratulating her, he would be just as aghast that the beautiful Egyptian queen married the Lord of the Flies. 

"We're divorced," she said hastily.

"Why did you even pick him to begin with?" William couldn't help but ask, still poleaxed. He wondered if Lamia knew of Dantalion's... relation with Solomon. Surely Astaroth knew, being a pillar herself, just exactly how close Dantalion was to his summoner.

"I guess we'll have to wait for Dantalion again, unless you can get your princess to stop glaring death at me," William sighed and dropped himself over a couch. He ignored a fuming Lamia in the background, who was surrounded by hissing snakes. 

"So we will," the queen hung over the back of the couch rather than try to contain her demon offspring which was throwing a tantrum in the background. Isaac hovered over her uneasily, trying to appease her like his younger siblings. In the back of his mind, William thought that even Isaac should know that Lamia is older than his grandmother. 

"Were you going to have me guess your identity again?" William asked slyly, his memories from Solomon coming forth. It was a trick that Astaroth often played on unsuspecting guests, devouring their soul freely if they lost.

"Maybe," she conceded with a secretive smile. "That look of your is all Solomon's, Elector."

"Well, maybe he rubbed off on me. He did help raise me, after all." William looked wistful. "Did you not tell Lamia of Dantalion and Solomon?"

"I didn't see the point," she shrugged. "She's not really Dantalion's fiancé."

"Ah, I thought as much," William nodded, knowing that Dantalion would certainly not replace Solomon with a shrieking demon child.

"Jealous?" She prodded. 

William snorted. "You wish." Still, he couldn't help but flush a bit over his ears as he recalled some of the rarer memories he saw on occasion. Astaroth's laughter didn't help the situation any. 

* * *

"This Solomon is but a child," Sytry said one day while leaning out the window. In the fields below, William was engrossed in a novel with his back against the tree. It was a fine day to be out- all blue skies and sunshines and fluffy white clouds. Sytry wondered what the skies would look like dyed red over London.

"He's not Solomon," Dantalion replied automatically. He too, looked upon William from above- only his gaze was fond and not assessing. 

"Of course, no one can replace your precious Solomon," Sytry sniped at Dantalion

"He's your summoner as well- don't pretend he didn't mean something to you," was the short reply. "But no, he isn't like Solomon at all."

Sytry paused in his thoughts. "He's very much like him though, but not quite as lonely," he thought of the incident over break with the killamous, and he was reminded sharply of the time two women brought Solomon a baby to judge who the rightful mother was. The cleverness and justice with which William handled the situation was very much like his distant ancestor. He had asked Solomon then, how he knew that the crying woman was the rightful mother, and Solomon only told him: "Because that's what my mother would have done" and smiled sadly. Sytry never asked about Solomon's judgements after that.

"Not lonely at all," Dantalion said fondly as Isaac came falling out said tree with a pointed hat on his head and a wand in the other. Even from above, they could almost hear William berating his friend for dabbling in the occult. Soon, the children were chasing each other around the tree, with William using his book as a weapon. Still, the smile at his lips showed that he was not serious at all.

"Does it make that big of a difference?" Sytry wondered aloud. The Solomon he knew was always a wraith- a shadow- drifting through life as a spectator but never all there. This Solomon crashes his way through life loudly, implanting his ideals of science and mathematic theories where he saw fit, yet wise enough not to be in complete denial of what his eyes see. The Solomon he knew wasn't nearly as vivacious. This one was more fiery by far, though brave and headstrong in a different way.

"Would it make a difference for you?" Dantalion shrugged. It was unsaid that he knew it would make a difference for him, at least. Hell was a lonely place, after all. There was no one to trust but your household, and sometimes not even that.

"Even if he's not Solomon, he's going to be treated as such by the demons in hell," the viscount noted, remember Astaroth's reaction and his own. It was unnerving, how similar the two were at first glance. The differences were there, but subtle unless you knew them both well.

Dantalion grimaced, knowing just as well what that means for the mortal. "If only he would stop greeting every demon he knows by the name. He's not powerful enough to deal with them- nowhere near." 

Sytry laughed. "He does do that a lot, doesn't he? He'll get there one day," the other demon said calmly. "Even if he doesn't greet them, just the way he acts is very similar to Solomon on a subconscious level. Anyone who knew him would pick up on that." 

"Yes, that can't be helped... but he's not getting powerful enough- not soon enough." Dantalion shook his head. His eyebrows were creased in worry. "With the way things are going now, he's not going to reach Solomon's level fast enough."

"Well then we'll just have to protect him until then," Sytry sighed. Playing the human was all fun and games, and he could almost forget being a noble of hell, of being a fallen angel and candidate for substitute king while he was in the mortal world. Mortals feel life strongly; they live vibrantly and fully, with their feelings shining bright on their faces for anyone with experience to read and manipulate. It was a refreshing change from the schemes in hell, where being backstabbed was almost more common than being stabbed from the front. But it only took one summon from Baalberith for the illusion to shatter and for him to be only a puppet dangling from a string once more. 

"Would you?" Dantalion asked, suspicion coloring his voice.

"You're not the only one who owes Solomon. Don't think too highly of yourself, Nephilim." Sytry retorted and left.

Dantalion thinks that sooner or later, the one Sytry will be owing will be William and not Solomon. And perhaps before then, he would learn to see the difference. 

* * *

William really wished that his friends would stop chasing the occult and ghosts and all such nonsense. He also really wished that his prefect duties didn't involve chasing down underclassmen. Once again, he was up at witching hour hunting some nonsensical electrophysical phenomenon or a drug induced hallucination. Only this time, he had his own (real) demonic tag along in the form of Sytry. He sighed. 

"Did something happen between you and Dantalion?" He asked curiously, one hand in a jar of biscuits. Honestly, the demon was such a glutton.

"He wouldn't take my warnings of Reverend Crossby seriously!" William said crossly, flushing a dull red. "He knows how to exorcise demons, and Dantalion just laughed it off!" Once again, he was off playing rugby with the bunch of brainless muscle heads. If only he would be serious for once! What sort of demon duke is this?! 

"Are you worried about him?" Sytry teased, poking William's cheek with a finger. He swatted it away.

"Not at all!" came the reverberating shout. It was almost enough to wake the dead, Sytry thinks while waiting for his ears to stop ringing. Surely, this version of Solomon has quite the set of lungs on him. He chuckled. 

"You shouldn't worry so. Nephilim as he is, he doesn't wear that title as just a decoration." Sytry pointed out. He hated to admit it, but the dirty past human was quite strong even for a demon.

"Still..." William looked away. "I feel uneasy about the Reverend. Solomon feels the same."

That on the other hand, had Sytry on edge. William is young and inexperienced. If William's worries were enough to concern Solomon, then perhaps Dantalion should take his warnings more seriously.

"Did you tell him that Solomon thought so as well?" He asked, one eyebrow raised. If Solomon himself was also concerned...

"... No. I thought he would listen if I just told him," he pouted.

Ah, so herein lies the problem, Sytry thought sagely. "Yes, thank you for warning me too," he said sarcastically, teasing the boy further. "Don't worry, William, I'll be careful too."

William flushed an even duller red as he huffed and chased after his classmates to find the ghost. Sytry followed behind him, laughing all the way. 

Suddenly, one of the underclassmen leading them into the forest burst into flames, turning into a shrieking ghoul. Immediately, William covered the eyes of the other underclassmen and put them to sleep on the forest floor.

"What have the underclassmen been eating lately?" William joked nervously as he started incanting a shielding spell over their prone bodies.

"This is nothing," Sytry said, pushing William roughly down to the ground. A black feather dart hit him across the face as his shoved William down. The others missed him barely.

"Go and hide, William," he said and let loose an energy blast that made a crater on the forest floor.

"Are you okay, Sytry?" He asked, concerned. He saw the blood drip down the demon's cheek. 

"I'm okay- I'll make that low life regret hurting me," he said darkly. This was clearly the viscount speaking and not the elegant upperclassman Sytry Cartwright. Nonetheless, William stepped in the middle of Sytry's warpath bravely, his hands lit up in green healing energy. The demon looked at him sternly, which did not impress William in the least.

"Let me at least heal this- you got injured on my account," William murmured. The gentleness with which his hand rested across Sytry's face reminded the demon of another who was just as gentle, once upon a time. "And be careful- something seems suspicious about this." 

"I will," he said, flying off to the direction to the church.

* * *

"William! Say that you need my power- then I'll help him. I would never betray your soul. You should know by now," the demon duke whispered in William's ear.

This wasn't the time to be debating! William fought to swallow his pride and ask for help. He thought himself to be capable, having been taught by the wisest king of Israel. Seeing Sytry's state made him think otherwise. He had gotten rid of the familiars, but even then, he had Isaac to worry about. He was angry at Dantalion and stubbornly refused to summon him, yet he came nonetheless.

Sytry's blood dripped down the cross as he had his wings pinned to the stained glass, his human form reverted to a panther with wings.

"Please," he bit out, looking Dantalion straight in the eyes. He refused to back down from the challenge, even as his lips were pressed tight.

"You only had to ask," the duke flashed a smile and leapt into action.

Sometimes the hardest lessons are ones you have to learn yourself, Solomon's words echoed in William's ears. Perhaps this is what he meant. To think that his pride was almost worth this much- he shook his head and renewed his determination. His hands lit up with power and he began his chanting once more.

"What are you planning to do to the elector?" Dantalion asked darkly as he stalked up the ruined church isle. The rubble around him levitated, vibrating with the energy around the air.

"He may have the right to choose the substitute demon king, but the elector is still a human like you. I can't believe a clergyman would lay his hands on another human being," he reasoned. Having been once a human, he knew how humans worked. They had morals- troublesome things. 

"Is that so?" Reverend Crossby asked. "Although he is human, he possesses the right to choose the substitute king. We can't ignore that he has a deep bond with the emperor of hell. We are servants and representatives of God who have been given power to destroy evil. It gives us power to destroy the elector."

"Destroy him...? So you're going to kill him?" Dantalion scoffed. To his side, William jolted in surprised. The reverend wouldn't, right...?

He would, Solomon said solemnly, his voice echoing. Thus such is the rule of heaven. They decide what is right and wrong- and what goes against their will is sin and condemned. Their judgement is not judgement. It is a monarchy, not a democracy.

"You lot haven't changed. Things have been the same as ever. You humans more selfish and foolish than even demons. Fine, I will be your opponent. I'm not losing the elector now. And to think I used to be like you. The look in your eyes remind me of my own once, do you know? Scheming and and cunning- I like that," he said, darting between the benches and slamming the reverend into the opposite wall. The blast send stone shards flying every which way, and William hastily drew up a barrier. Beside him, Isaac took refuge under an upturned bench. 

"You guys have always been like this. If you all were going to attack at once, you should do so all together! I'll defile your soul and send you to the purgatory you clergymen hate so much. You would make a good demon, you know." He held up the reverend by the throat with one hand, choking him. 

"Stop, Dantalion!" William's voice cut through the air.

"Don't bind me, William," Dantalion's gritted. "You know I'm affected by your words."

"You must stop this at once!" He shook his head and rushed over as the demon lost his grip on the reverend.

"What are you doing?" Dantalion asked in indignation as William knelt over the man and put one glowing hand on him. 

"I'm removing some of his memories and sealing the rest," he said quietly. "You can't have anyone knowing that you two are demons, and you were prideful enough not to pick a fake name. It would only take one person who knows your demon identity to put things together. If you kill him, there will be an investigation, and we can't afford that. If I seal the superficial memories and erase the rest, whoever is digging will assume that the sealed ones are the ones we are trying to keep hidden."

Dantalion hesitated, clearly seeing the wisdom in such actions, but he was always a demon of the battlefield. Who thought that weedy little William Twining could be so cunning as to come up with a plan like this on the fly? 

William rose, clearly sparing the clergyman. He took the chance as presented and escaped in a flurry of black feathers. The teen let him.

"Now, let's get you down from here, Sytry," he said gently and floated up. With one hand, he undid the wires pinning him down and let them spin into spools in the air. "Look at what that reverend did," he sighed. "This is why I told you to be careful." He laid one healing hand on Sytry's fur, and the blood and gashes began to heal up, leaving clean fur behind.

 "Your fur is quite fluffy, you know. I quite like this form," William chuckled, stepping back down to the ground. Dantalion can't help but chortle. Fluffy. Sytry huffed, clearly disagreeing but weak enough not to revert to his human form. He snuggled deeper into William's warm arms.

"I'm hungry," William said, yawning suddenly and wavering on his feet. His vision suddenly began fading, black dots moving in from the peripheries of his vision. 

"You used a lot of magic at once for a human child," Dantalion noted. Solomon wasn't quite so practiced with his battle magic at that age, now that he thought of it. A more than competent summoner, battle magic was not his forte. Just the fact that William excelled so much under his teaching was remarkable by itself.

"Can I have another of Bapthomet's cakes?" William smiled up at Dantalion, nearly asleep on his feet. His words were slurred. What did he want to say again? He couldn't recall.

"Of course, anything you want," Dantalion said reflexively.

"Thanks," William said and collapsed into Dantalion's arms.

"He's asleep," the demon noted to Sytry, who was squished by William's bulk.

"He really did overexert himself this time," the leopard demon said.

"They won't send a Hand of God next time," Dantalion muttered. "No, they'll send someone stronger."

"They will," Sytry sighed.

"I think I have a pretty good idea who they will send," the duke muttered as he huffed under the weight of Isaac, William, and Sytry's combined bulk. Such troublesome children, he thought with a sigh. 

* * *

"Today I'm introducing our new reverend who will be taking Reverend Crosby's place," the principal announced.

"Pleased to meet you- my name is Kevin Cecil." William gasped. To his side, Dantalion narrowed his eyes. He knew it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mandy: I should definitely be working, but the plot bunny just wouldn't quit biting me. Again, everything is mostly cannon compliant with small changes.


	3. Chapter 3

"Kevin's been really cold to me lately," William confessed to Solomon, once again having tea at sunset in his dream world. He had been frequenting the world less and less, as the majority of his sleeping time was spent in Solomon's memories nowadays. The more he saw of that life, the more he understand how Solomon became the way he was. He was not envious of the man at all. He began living the man's life through his dreams, now picking up his habits more often than not. Seeing the child version of Solomon was nothing short of heart wrenching, he thought.

"What for?" Solomon asked, engrossed in the text that he must have read a dozen times over.

"I don't know," he confessed. "I thought we cleared up any misunderstandings, that day when Dantalion got summoned here for the first time. I told him I didn't care what he was or who he had been."

Seeing Solomon's confusion, William elaborated hesitantly. "He looks like the angel from your dreams."

The hand resting on the page paused. The man looked at his charge, searching for any deceit. He only saw unguarded confusion in the boy's eyes.

"William," he said seriously, grasping his charge's shoulder. "If they are the same person, then you must be careful of him no matter what." To think that the Kevin that William had often talked about was in fact the same cruel angel who once plagued his last days, Solomon thought darkly.

"Why?" William asked quietly, subdued. He looked a bit baffled yet also resigned.

Seeing the look on his face, Solomon sighed and let go. "His name is Uriel, the Seraph of Penance. He punishes sinners- or whoever turns down heaven's exaltation."

"A person like you?" William asked, having seen Solomon's torturous last days. The king put a hand over his heart, where Uriel's spear pierced it time and time again.

"Like me," Solomon admitted. "I was blessed- no, cursed- with the grace of God. I saw God and was granted wisdom. I regret asking for wisdom, and I thought that surely, heaven must be just. It isn't. I turned to demons instead, and when Uriel came to exalt me to heaven- to sanctify me and turn me into one of heaven's own angels- I refused. I kept refusing as he took away every person I ever loved and came to torment me every day. He was my demise, Uriel. In the end, I refused the exaltation to my dying breath."

William shuddered, one eyes wide. "That can't be the same person!" he refused to believe that his butler would do anything like that when all he has ever known of the man was his kindness. He remembered the warm hand that held him and tugged him up from the ground when he fell. It can't be the same hand that pierced Solomon's heart.

"Let me see then, who he is," Solomon said, holding onto his judgement. He closed the book gently and set it to the side, his attention now focused solely on William

"How do I do that?" William asked.

"Put your hands in mine and think of the Kevin as you know him. Picture him and every detail you can about him. Remember him and what he means to you," Solomon said, soothing William with his words.

Unwilling to concede defeat yet hesitant to face the truth, William did as he was told. He visualized warm summer days in the garden, of laughter in bright lavender eyes and windswept violet hair. He remembered the warmness in his laughter and the gentleness of his touch, the sturdiness of his shoulder as he cried the days after his parents' death, the mischief in his expression as they snuck tarts from the maids and ran away from the stewardess. He remembered how tall the man was and how they had climbed trees one time to reach for an apple- and how he ended up falling on top of the other man. He saw the Kevin who stayed with him despite the rest of his household being dismissed- who maintained his house and would not leave him alone- even to the point of chasing down his missing uncle. This cannot possibly be the same person.

Solomon closed his eyes and absorbed the memories. The transfer was easy, given that they held a closeness two souls rarely have. What he saw was surprising- he saw humanity and warmth in Uriel's cold eyes. Where they were once dead to the world, they now shone with love and affection. It wasn't hard to grow fond of his young charge, but to see even Uriel's cold heart melt... he never thought he would see the day. Perhaps William really was the cause for change.

"Undoubtedly, this person is Uriel." Solomon's words sunk what was left of William's hope.

"Then the real Kevin..." William began, troubled by Solomon's words.

"He is likely alive somewhere- if "Kevin Cecil" is really descended from a long line of reverends, then Uriel would not harm one of his own. Didn't you say he wanted to pursue his education in London?" Solomon analyzed. His ring rested on his hand- it caught the light.

"He did, but he changed his mind after my parents died," William confirmed.

"That's when he replaced the real Kevin," Solomon concluded. "Did it not strike you as odd, that a son of one aristocratic family would lower himself to become a mere steward of another family? Friends as you are, the devotion would not stretch that far."

William looked away.

"But the Uriel I saw in your memories is different from the Uriel you saw in mine," Solomon murmured.

"I noticed as well," William added. "He- what happened to him?" He was aghast.

"I think that should be my question," Solomon rested his head on his hands. "What I remember of him is what most people- demons or angels- remember of him. That is who he is. This now- this is new. All I know is that despite this being very not like him, the joy I see is not fake. All angels feel their emotions strongly- he would not hide such joy. Uriel gambling? I honestly did not think I would see the day."

"So then..." William asked, hope in his voice. Was he still the Kevin that he knew?

"I don't know," Solomon mused. "But whatever the case, you must exercise caution, William. If he's distancing himself from you, then there must be something else he is hiding."

"I hate having to keep secrets like this," William muttered, downcast.

"I know, Child." Solomon looked on with sad eyes. He didn't want to have to keep secrets from William either, but the world seldom asked him what he wanted.

* * *

He dreamed of Solomon as a child again tonight. He was very young this time, younger than him. The chains on his ankles were barbaric, William thought and recoiled. Nonetheless, the child sat atop a large tower of books, staring out at the window and longing for freedom.

"I was my father's sin," he whispered. "How much longer do I have to stay here?"

"Solomon, child of sin, don't you want to become king?" A form appeared from the shadows. Dantalion! William gasped silently. He looked the same age as now, only he was dressed differently. Was he really that old?

"King David made Jerusalem prosperous. The only sins he committed were stealing the wife of his loyal vassal, killing the man, and fathering an illegitimate child. You are that child." He leaned in close, one finger on the child Solomon's lips. His wide green eyes met his unflinchingly.

Then, he smiled. "I'm so glad you came. I was just feeling bored. Won't you talk to me? Eminent grand marquis Dantalion? I was really bored you know. So I've decided to start the beginning of the world's nightmare. Won't you join me?" The child asked innocently with a beautiful smile, as if he was not discussing the start of the world's end.

William woke up with a gasp, sweat drenching his body and soaking through the clothes. He clutched at his chest with tremoring fingers.

"A dream, he murmured. He drifted uneasily back to sleep, this time to his dream world.

"The beginning of the world's nightmare, huh?" William asked casually, leaning against the stone wall of the temple. The sunset was ever present in the world. He overlooked the busy Sunday market, with merchants on horses and elephants alike snaking their way through the streets. Beneath them, the city was lively.

Solomon drank his tea calmly not giving any indication that he acknowledged his protege words beyond a flicker of a gaze over to him.

William thought quietly to himself. When he was a child, he called Solomon his father. As he grew, he thought of him as a mentor- and still yet, a very wise one. Yet, the more he sees of Solomon's life, the more he thinks that the great king is just a man. A man sculpted by the circumstances of his life. An apathetic man, a tired man, a man weighted down with wisdom and mistakes.

"I saw one of your meetings with Lucifer. You were saying goodbye to him." William continued, seemingly talking to the air. "Was he fond of you?"

"They all were," he said emptily, apathy filling his gaze. "That's the problem."

"And I'm the solution?" William snapped. "The world's nightmare. Is this the end? Are you happy now, as the curtain draws in a grand finale? The cumulation of a thousand years of planning? The end of the world as we know it- heaven, humanity, hell? Why do you even do this to yourself?" To me, he added in his mind.

"I don't know," the king replied, his words which could refer to any of the questions he stated.

William scoffed, hurt by his mentor's words. The opposite of love is not hate; it's apathy.

"If it means anything, I am sorry that it was you that this happened to," he said, green eyes sad. He brushed back William's hair gently, tucking a flyaway strand behind his ear. He like it was when he was at the elder Swallow's party. His protege truly did look like him that day.

"Liar," William said tiredly. He was weary, bearing a burden passed down to him, a fate written for him before he was even born. Since when did his world get so complicated? He hated that he was helpless in this net- this game of chess that he could do nothing but play, to dance to someone else's tune. He hated his own weakness as he leaned into the touch nonetheless and fell into the embrace that was familiar to him after so many years.

"Will you tell me, at the end?" William asked frankly, a little more than exhausted.

"You'll know everything, at the end." Solomon answered honestly.

"... Stay with me, please?" William asked, a moment of vulnerability showing in the way he gripped Solomon's robes.

"For as long as I can, Child." Solomon replied. He knew that he would not have very much time left. As the memories unravel and their souls bleed into one, there can only be one consciousness ruling in the body, and he prayed dearly that it would not be him.

* * *

"Dantalion is right," Kevin said, leaning against one of the many windows in the church. He looked down at the school grounds, looking for any signs of a threat. "You have to be careful- you haven't chosen a king yet."

"But the head boy... he's very punctual to church and never misses a session," William argued. "What sort of demon is religious?"

"It is very unusual that a demon would read the Bible," Kevin wondered. Even Dantalion and Sytry turned their noses up at Sunday service, preferring to "visit their families" instead when they were able.

"For a moment, when I held his arm after the boat race, his hair turned pitch black... and he had dark eyes." William admitted. "Just for a blink of an eye, but I'm sure I saw it."

"No demon may appear in front of Solomon in disguise," Uriel quoted, well versed with the ways of the world. As one of the oldest Archangels, he knew far more than regular seraphs. "Not those of his pillars anyways."

"The underclassmen seem to think that Miss Mollins is a witch as well," he said despondently. His life was really just one roller coaster after another, with trouble coming up endlessly and crisis to be solved. He really did with that the newest batch of underclassmen could just behave themselves for once.

"It's not impossible," Kevin reasoned. Anyone had the potential to turn to religion or witchcraft, and they don't necessarily have to declare it to the world.

"They said they found chalk marks in her room, but that is not solid enough proof to charge someone of such a crime," William shook his head.

"Ever the wise ruler," the reverend half-joked.

"The future Prime Minster ought to be just, don't you think?" William laughed. Suddenly, in a rapidly destabilizing situation between heaven, hell, and humanity, the dream has never meant so little. To uphold his father's wishes... what wishes were they again? They were just words now, a rote reply to a mundane question. The dream has never seemed so far now, but he would strive for it nonetheless. In the back of his mind, he had a feeling that he would never see it come to fruition. In the context of their family's curse, perhaps he would do his family more of a service to end the cycle of rebirth.

Kevin smiled, sending his young master well on his way.

* * *

"Geez, these underclassmen!" William shook his head angrily after just having given them a stern lecture and assigned them a hundred lines of Latin each. "To think they would dig through a woman's belongings- let alone the dorm master's- this is a prank gone too far!"

"Young master! Perfect timing!" Kevin rushed up the staircase in a hurry, his robes billowing about him. "Actually, there's something that has been bothering me about Miss Mollins."

"Not you too, Kevin," William sighed.

"She asked me to perform her last rites," Kevin stated. Unusual indeed.

"She's dying?" William gasped. Now he really regretted assigning the little hellions only a hundred lines of Latin. That poor woman!

"William! What are you doing here? The door to the demon world just opened... and Miss Mollins was the one who opened it!" Sytry came down the stairs of the dorm in a rush at the same time.

"Her last rites and a demon summoning..." William murmured to himself. The pieces came together in a snap as the knowledge he gained from years of nighttime reading gave him the answer. "We must stop her!" He rushed down the stairs with Kevin and Sytry barely a step behind her.

"Stop! Ms. Mollins!" William shouted from the edge of the summoning circle. He was out of breath, one hand resting against the trunk of a tree and the other around his aching ribs.

"Can you send away the demon?" William asked Kevin, knowing well that the angel had more than enough power to do so.

"I'm not an excorcist," Kevin denied, keeping with his cover. Internally cursing, William prepared to summon his magic.

Before he could start on his first syllable, the horse demon's great fist came crashing down on his summoner. She flinched but did not move from her position. She extended her neck, ready to face her demise.

Is she mad?! William thought to himself, leaping over the bushes, hoping desperately that he'll get there in time to save her.

He didn't have to bother. A great bang echoed through the quiet woods, and the demon was disintegrated.

"Head boy?" He couldn't help but gasp. Floating in the air, holding Miss Mollins by the waist was head boy, Nathan Cackstone. "Camio?" the name escaped him before he could even process what he had said. Camio, one of Solomon's seventy two pillars and one of the candidates to Lucifer's throne.

The black haired demon spared a glance down at William, knowing since many years back that he was descended from Solomon and not caring in the least.

"You haven't changed at all. You're really strong considering you're only a half demon," Dantalion strode out of the woods with his tie undone and hair in its usual mess.

"Be quiet, you damn nephilim! You're just a demon abandoned by humanity!" Camio snarled, fangs bared. In his defense, Dantalion did not look taken back by the insult at all. He merely rubbed his neck and raised an eyebrow at the statement.

"A bit hypocritical of you, Camio, considering that you were the one who wanted to turn this woman into a nephilim." He flinched.

"Camio, the fifty-third pillar and commander of thirty armies..." William muttered, his voice sounding far away even to him. Dantalion glanced at him and noticed the look in his eyes was less William and more Solomon. Since when did William get to be so much like Solomon?

"He had history with Solomon too..." William noted. "Or rather, it's the other way around. He's uneasy."

Dantalion's gaze narrowed and looked away, well aware of Camio's infamous criminal record towards the last of Solomon's days. It was a grudge that he had yet to settle. While heaven was busy using Uriel to punish Solomon, hell used Camio to lure Solomon's loved ones into purgatory.

Now looking at the love in Camio's eyes, he couldn't imagine the demon being anything but human, William thought. The Camio Solomon remembered was always lonely and sad, a quiet shadow away from the other demons. Even in his crime- even though Solomon knew- he could never blame the demon. Perhaps humanity is frail- its people foolish and deluded and misguided- but humans bring forth great change by themselves. Their lifespans are limited, and in its limitation comes a rush for change and progression that immortals would not otherwise have thought of.

"I'm dying, Camio," Maria Mollins said tearfully. "You never came to me. I remember what you said- that if I came to hell and became a demon, I might be able to see you again."

"I couldn't have you involved in my world," he said, looking down.

"I know- that's why I returned to the school. I didn't know where to go or what to do- I don't belong in the human world anymore," she said, leaning into Camio's hold. The demon hugged her tightly, not letting go.

"If you became a demon and stayed by my side..." he started.

"No, don't become a nephilim," Dantalion interrupted the couple sharply. "She only has a few years left as a human. Let her die as a human, if you still have a human heart left, Camio." He was completely serious, and Camio knew it too.

"Is there not anyone else you can be with, Camio?" Maria asked.

"No, there hasn't been anyone else since I was born... not since Solomon," he held her tight, grief evident in the lines of his body.

For a moment, William saw into another of Solomon's memories. There, atop a pile of demon corpses at twilight, was Camio, holding a bloody blade in his hands. The desert wind whipped around them, blood soaked sands filling the air with the stench of death. Solomon barely blinked at the gory scene before him, striding up to the half demon with a gentile smile on his face. He paid his ivory robes no mind as they became streaked with rust red.

"Do you really hate demons so much? Even though you have demon blood running through your veins? Become mine. If you do, then no one will deny you- neither demons nor humans. Not even God..." Solomon whispered, tempting the demon into his embrace. Slowly as if luring a great beast, Camio laid down his blade and descended to the ground.

Solomon was truly a manipulator of the greatest degree, William thought. As a spectator, he saw that the demons loved and hated him in equal measures, bound by their contract yet attracted to the God-touched man like a moth to flame. The can't help doing so- the man saw through their weaknesses and used them to his greatest advantage. His power lie not in that he bound seventy two demons, but in that he earned the undying loyalty of each and every single one, whether they wanted to give it or not.

"There, atop a mountain of corpses... Do you really hate demons so much?" William intoned, his voice far away. Camio's head snapped up, his eyes wide. He didn't know that William held Solomon's memories already. Solomon? Perhaps he wasn't quite as dead as he thought.

"I may not be Solomon," William shook his head to clear the images, "but won't you stay here? Head Boy? Miss Mollins?"

"Maria..." Camio said uncertainly. She looked at him and laughed, the joy in her eyes making her seem younger than her age.

"You do have a lot of friends now, Camio," she said, smiling up at him.

"Yes, but please do take care of yourself, Miss Mollins- for his sake?" William asked gently, holding out his hand.

"You're right," she said and took his hand.

* * *

"Tomorrow is the night of Walpurgis, when the demon world's power is at its height," Solomon said, flipping a page on the book in his lap.

"It is," William sighed. "And I presume everyone will be wanting to find me?" He was only prime target, the elector to Lucifer's throne. In the back of his mind, he had a sinking feeling that what Lucifer planned was far different from what everyone else thought.

"You had best hide, Child," Solomon chuckled. It was unbecoming of the child to hide away from his troubles with him. He was far too grown for that now.

"It's your fault," William said accusingly. There was very little in his life that wasn't Solomon's fault, one way or the other.

"But of course," the man smiled back irritatingly. "But worry not- you still have all seventy two of my demons to call on, even if they are a world away attending their parties. They'll come if you call. You have their sigils."

"I know they will," William picked up a book from the pile and opened to a random page. It was a book written in Latin on the treatises between God and its people. A stiff necked people, as the Bible often described them. "But I won't use them."

"Won't you rely on their power?" He prodded gently. "They are at your disposal- all of them. You only have to ask."

William shook his head, not falling to the tempting words. "What good is relying on their power, if I can't prove that I am deserving of it? God helps those who helps themselves, and even if I have turned my back against him- the principles remain the same. I will not rely on another's power anymore than I absolutely have to."

"Wise words," Solomon agreed. "So hide you shall then, hm?"

"Hiding it is," he sighed. "One has to know when retreating is the wisest choice. There is no honor in a meaningless death."

"Just for now," he concurred. The plans he made will move forward, though it pains him to see that William be the incarnation to see it to the end, he can't help but think that it is a stroke of luck that the boy the most headstrong incarnation he has seen thus far and the most capable one. If it was William's father, he would have been consumed by Solomon's soul entirely. As it was, William might not follow the same fate.

* * *

"I sensed a demon in the play," William said to Solomon one day. The night of Walpurgis was a disaster, as Solomon predicted. He hid, but hiding didn't do him any good. The moment he stepped outside the dormitory, he was mobbed by a legion of demons entering the human world to hunt for him. It was only thanks to his three demons that the dormitory was not leveled altogether.

"Ophelia and King Claudius?" Solomon said jokingly. From the world of dreams, William was able to reproduce the books he had read, as he remembered them. Thus, Solomon's world of knowledge grew wider to include the scopes and science and classic literature far beyond his time. It was fascinating, how humans evolved and constantly tested the boundaries of God- to uncover the secrets they had no rights to- the secrets that govern life and death.

"No, not them," William laughed, remembering how Sytry had messed up his lines on purpose. Solomon laughed with him- Sytry grew up to be a beautiful demon indeed, even though he knew that the fallen angel was no such thing. "It was someone in the audience- I sensed it. I couldn't pinpoint who, but it wasn't the Head Boy either. It's a demon I don't know. I barely caught it- when I turned to look, the presence was gone again."

The sensing game was one that Solomon had been training William in, as of late. He needed to sharpen his senses, to be alert and wary of demon presence around him. He was quite adept in the more advanced magics and practiced the spells diligently- both in the dream world and in reality. His life did depend quite heavily on it.

"They were masking their presence then?" Solomon asked, idly wondering which one of the demons it was this time.

"Most probably," William said. "How troublesome," he sighed.

"I never took you for the lazy type, Child," Solomon ruffled William's hair, and the teen didn't stop him.

"I'm not, but it really is troublesome, this whole situation."

Well, troublesome was one way to describe it, though it irked him to see four hundred years of planning summed up with "troublesome", Solomon thought. It was just like his incarnation to call it such.

* * *

"William! It's terrible! I'm going to fail!" Isaac wailed, clutching his interim report.

"I don't really care," the teenager looked through his own report with apathetic eyes. He got straight A's, as expected. "If you cared more about your grades, you should spend less time on the occult stuff. It's too late to be making a fuss about that now anyway since the results of your exams come from a daily habit of studying."

"That's what a successful person would say!" Isaac sniffled. "Be kind to those who aren't successful too!"

Used to being the top of his class, William couldn't care less. He would be kind when he stood on the top of the world. Until then, he'll step over anyone who gets in his way with ruthless determination.

"But you might not be the top student this time," Isaac pointed out.

"What?" William asked, his daydream of being prime minister momentarily disappearing. "Who's that?" He followed Isaac's gaze.

"You really don't pay attention to anyone else, do you?" he deadpanned.

"I don't make a habit of associating with people who bring no benefit to me," William declared haughtily, every inch the noble that he is.

Isaac sighed. "His name is Elliot Eden. He's from a middle class family, like me. He's always absent from school due to poor health, so I suppose you wouldn't know him."

"Huh," William said inarticulately.

"Do you really not remember his name? He came in just a couple places below you for the last Latin exam," Isaac pointed out.

"No, I don't recall." It bothered William far more than he thought; he had never heard of the name Elliot Eden in his life, let alone that of a top student. How did this person suddenly appear? And how did everyone but him know of this person?

"Would you happen to be William Twining?" The subject of their talk walked over to their end of the study room, a thick tome tucked under one arm.

"Don't you recognize your prefects?" William snapped, still uneasy at the sudden appearance of this stranger.

"I apologize- I'm not here very often, so I'm afraid I'm not too familiar with my classmates," he said with a gentle tilt of his head. Odd, considering how his classmates seemed to know him well enough.

"Is there something you want?" William hedged, eager to end the conversation.

"I just wanted to let you know that I'm aiming for your spot in the next exams. Do study well- if you make excuses later on, it won't be fun, right?" The sickly teen grinned and walked off, uncaring of William's venomous glare following him out.

"Isaac," William said in a monotone. "You're going to help me study!"

"Eh?!" The poor boy eeped at the flames that seemingly appeared behind him. The flames of ambition burn brightly indeed.

* * *

"Do you remember a boy in our year named Elliot Eden?" William asked Dantalion casually. A full day of classes had come to an end, and he was once again winding down his day with one of Bapthomet's cakes.

"No," the demon frowned. He paused in his eating. Human food was truly atrocious- he didn't regret turning Amon and Mamon into delivery bats. "Why do you ask?"

As much as he hated to admit it, the demons had better memory than he did- purely on the basis that they are supernatural and ancient. "I've never seen or heard of this person in my life before, but Isaac swears that he came in a couple places below me for our last exams. Everyone I've talked to seem to know him even though he claims he's sickly and hardly visits the school."

That is very suspicious, Dantalion thought.

"And he challenged me for my valedictorian spot!" William exclaimed, angry that the other would even dare to test him.

"Ah, I see what the issue is now," Dantalion said, holding back a laugh. Pride was always a sore point with William. It is nice to see such liveliness every once in a while, even if the mortal's anger did nothing to faze him. It was amusing, pretending that his anger had any real bearing on the way things were run.

"He feels uneasy to me," William said with a sigh, sitting back down. "I can't explain it, but he feels... off. He's charming and sociable and smart, and his uncle is an ambassador in China. He wants to be a lawyer and the Prime Minister before forty. He has grand ambitions like me. I'm sure we would get along well if not for exams, but something just feels... off."

After the episode with Reverend Crossby, Dantalion learned not to dismiss William's odd feelings off the bat.

"And Solomon?" Dantalion asked, cutting himself another slice of cake.

William shook his head. "Nothing- he doesn't know this person."

So it isn't any of the pillars. "What does he look like then?" Perhaps he should do some digging, to see if this Eden is a demon... or perhaps...?

"He has shoulder length white hair and red eyes, around my age," William said succinctly.

"Did you say white hair?" Dantalion startled.

"Yes," William said, confused as to why white hair would alarm Dantalion. Sytry's hair was almost the same shade, and he had no problems with it. "Or a very pale blond."

"I can't be certain, but you're probably better off asking Sytry about this. I'll do some investigating on my own, of course," Dantalion carded his hand through his hair, uneasy but unwilling to tell William of his suspicions before he had a chance to confirm them.

"What do you want to ask me?" Sytry said from beside William, his mouth stuffed with cake.

"Speak of the devil!" William nearly jumped out of his chair in surprise at Sytry's sudden appearance.

"I'm not him...yet. Unless you'd choose me?" Sytry asked slyly, leaning very close to William. He could feel the demon's breath, the iridescent eyes staring intently into his own.

"No, obviously he is going to choose me!" Dantalion bristled at their closeness as Sytry smiled. William blinked and pushed his chair back.

"Elliot Eden!" William interrupted them before they could continue their age old argument.

"What...?" Sytry refrained from leaping at the other demon.

"There's a student named Elliot Eden here. He's in my year, with white hair and red eyes. I don't remember him, but everyone else does, and I don't know why," William said in a rush. "He's charismatic and smart, but something just seems odd about him. He's very interested in what I find important."

Sytry paled at the description, all jokes forgotten. There was only one sort of creature that would fit that particular description.

"Like your grades?" Dantalion teased fondly.

William flushed. "Not just that- he keeps giving me hypothetical scenarios like Noah's ark... And he keeps asking me to choose between what is right and what is important. It's all very strange- you wouldn't ask a random stranger those sort of questions."

"He's forcing you to answer?" Sytry murmured, lavender eyes narrow in thought.

William nodded. "I'm not sure why- I get along with him well enough when he talks to me, but the sense of oddness only comes back when he's away."

Dantalion and Sytry looked at each other. It looks like Heaven has finally made their move.

"Stay well away from this person, William," Sytry said seriously. Perhaps even we will not be a match, he thought, one hand touching his shoulder blades.

* * *

"Head Boy!" William gasped, seeing the man from behind the bars of his punishment room. "I thought I wasn't allowed visitors!"

"You're not," he said sternly. "Do you have any idea who did this?"

"Then you do believe me!" William exclaimed, feeling touched. Even if he knew that logically, the head boy was a demon, William Twining would always remember him as the head boy he looked up to.

"You didn't cheat, did you?" he shrugged. "Things like this happen from time to time even though they shouldn't."

There was one person who William immediately thought of even though the situation didn't make any sense. "The handwriting does look familiar, but I'm not sure where I have seen it... Head boy- there's something I need to ask you. You're the representative of the middle class, right?"

"Yes..." he said, not sure where William was going with this and why he was wasting time on a matter that wasn't related to his grades, at a time like this.

"Have you heard of a middle classed student named Elliot Eden in my year? He has shoulder length straight white hair and red eyes..." William said hesitantly.

When he looked up, he was sure that it wasn't Nathan Cackstone he was speaking to anymore- it was Camio.

"... Tell me more about this person, William," he said seriously.

And he did. Elliot's words rang in his mind. If he had to choose between heaven and hell, who which would he choose?

* * *

With a snap of his fingers, Isaac's locket's opened, and they were transported to an odd world of checkers.

"Isaac! Where are we? What did you do?!" William shot his friend by his collar, once again stuck in an alternative dimension with no means out.

"Ahhh! It's not like that! I only thought I'd call on the Angel Michael for some help!" His friend blabbered.

"Ah, it makes me so angry that you interrupted right then. I wanted to hear your true feelings," a familiar voice said.

"Elliot? You...!" William gasped as the being stalked closer to him. He knew something was odd about that boy! The floor rippled as he did so even though his feet never touched the ground.

"No, I wasn't the one who framed you," the boy shrugged, not in the least like his usual self. "I don't do things like that. But it's more interesting this way, right?"

"What are you talking about?" William said shakily, taking a couple of hesitant steps back. He was saved by Sytry, who appeared in a a bang and slashed Elliot across the torso.

"What an annoying interruption," the boy said darkly as white feathered wings burst from his back. He was clearly unhurt- his clothes weren't even torn in the least.

"As I thought, you're an angel," Sytry snarled, intimidated. He knew that he was no match for the archangel, but he had to buy time until Dantalion can get through the barrier.

A pool of golden light appeared in Elliot's palm, and a golden sword embedded with jewels stretched between his two hands.

"The golden Unsheathed Sword!" Isaac crowed. "Then he really is the Chief of Angels, Archangel Michael! The one who resembles God, the commander of the divine armies!"

William grew pale. "Of all angels you had to summon, you had to summon him, Isaac!" He shook his friend by the collar again. If I die, I'll curse you with my dying breath, William thought in a panic. In the back of his mind, he could hear his beloved mentor laughing at his misfortune.

When he turned his back, Michael seized him by the throat, lifting him high into the air. He could feel himself bob up and down in the air, held by a pair of white wings. "Humans really are shameless. God thought to give you his grace instead of us angels, and this is how you'll repay him? How ungrateful. Don't you remember what happened to the country you created, Solomon, son of David, King of Israel? No? Well then I'll take your soul to heaven myself! You ought to be honored- not many people have this chance!"

"Summon me to heaven?" William grew panicked. His air sickness was beginning to kick in, and his nausea grew. His magic would not come to him now, with his panic- not that it would do any good.

"I'm going to kill you of course," the angel grinned. "I wouldn't be doing this, but he grew rather fond of you, you see."

"But why would he be doing this?" Isaac asked Sytry from the sideline. He could do nothing but observe in fear. "Elliot has been at Stratford for a long time!"

"Michael has likely taken over his body. Even if they aren't in their true forms, seraphs like him hold enough power to destroy armies with a sweep of their hands," Sytry shook his head. "Even I can't help him- our ranks are too different."

"That can't be..." Isaac lamented his friend's imminent demise.

"Ah yes, perhaps I'll take you back too, Sytry," Michael said as an afterthought. "You want to meet her, don't you? You didn't fall this way out of your own choice. You're both good boys," he cooed. "Good that you're smart enough not to defy the representative of God delivering judgement in his name!"

The statement clearly struck a nerve with Sytry as he looked away, hands clenched tight, stress creases around his eyes deepening.

William closed his eyes tightly- is this how he will die? No! He refuses to go to heaven! Not if heaven is like this! Someone- anyone! Just as Michael's sword was about to come down on him, a strong pair of arms pulled him back. His vision faded, and he heard Solomon's voice in his mind. He felt a pair of soft hands over his face, the cool touch of a silver ring over his eye.

"... This is not my ideal solution, but I'll take over for a while, William. Rest well, Child."

* * *

"You took your time, Dantalion," Solomon said, his back turned to the demon. He was still in the demon's embrace, and he made no move to get away. He was quite comfortable where he was, thank you very much.

"Sorry, William. That was a damn complicated barrier that he put up." Dantalion said, his gaze focused on the archangel. "... William?" He asked he when he didn't get the acerbic reply he expected. The boy didn't struggle as usual either.

Instead, William got up, dusted himself off calmly and turned to face Dantalion. His gaze was vacant and apathetic.

"It's nice to see you again," he smiled gently. "Thanks for fulfilling my last wish."

"Solomon...!" Dantalion breathed, all thoughts forgotten. His past had caught up to him yet again. The man smiled his damnable smile again- the one that could mean a million things at once. The demon noticed that even the way he held himself in William's body was different, with an unearthly grace that the boy didn't have.

"So, you are Michael, Lucifer's elder brother. It's nice to finally meet you." Solomon slowly walked up calmly to the angel bearing a golden sword with empty hands.

"Solomon, hm? Sneaky William- to think that I thought you had no memories of your ancestor," the angel glared down at the one who dared to refuse God, fury burning his scarlet eyes.

"I'm afraid William isn't here at the moment. All this excitement has tired him out quite terribly. The poor child is resting." Solomon said placidly. "Won't you come down from here? Or would you prefer that I make you?" His green eyes grew sharp and focused. Despite his power, Michael shivered. Is this the power of God's grace? To think that a mortal would dare to make him feel such trepidation.

"Is that..." Sytry asked hesitantly, floating over to Dantalion. He had no wings of his own, yet flight was well within his powers.

"That's Solomon," Dantalion said grimly. He held a hand over Isaac's shocked face, and the boy fainted. "It's better if he doesn't remember any of this."

"How can this be...?" Sytry asked, disbelieving. Solomon was a thousand years dead! He too, had quite a bit of past with the magician in question.

"William let him take over," Dantalion replied dully, observing Michael and Solomon tensely.

"William let him?" Sytry echoed. Why would he do so?

"You never did give me a proper answer," Michael said, covering his nervousness with bravery after a moment of unease.

"William never did, did he?" Solomon tilted his head gently. "What do you think?" He smiled, hands at his side and appearing to be completely benevolent.

"I'm asking you, not him!" Michael snarled, a ball of energy forming in one hand, temper spent.

"If you're asking me, then shouldn't you already know the answer?" Solomon replied, his eyes piercing. The smile never left his face even as Dantalion leapt into action and blocked the attack. He never had to lift even a finger.

"Don't get in my way, Demon!" Michael yelled, forming more balls of fire. Never the one to back down from a challenge, Dantalion replied with plenty of power of his own. The two dueled in midair, far away from the magician who stood firmly on the ground.

"Such good children I have," Solomon chuckled and watch the angel fall from the air a particularly powerful energy blast from Dantalion.

"Solomon, you...!" Sytry confronted his summoner, an angry flush bright on his pale cheeks. "What have you done with William?" His bright blue eyes were panicked and worried.

"Nothing. My protege is sleeping right now. He'll remember this later, when I show it to him in his dreams," Solomon smiled and patted Sytry on the head patronizingly. "You've grown very beautiful, Sytry. Thanks for looking after William for me."

Sytry brushed away his hand, hating himself all the more.

"I heard what Michael said," the king said, instead putting a hand on Sytry's shoulder. "There's more to the story than what that angel knows. You should ask your uncle sometime before you draw any conclusion. He never did tell you what happened when he fell, did he?" Confused and disoriented, Sytry did nothing but to look away.

He said no more on the topic and turned to see Dantalion stepping none-so-gently on the seraph's pristine wings and dug in his heels.

"Noli me tangere! (Don't touch me!)" the angel gasped, kneeling on the floor in defeat.

"A person like you doesn't even deserve to go to purgatory," Dantalion said, staring down at the angel cruelly. This was the commander of armies that slaughtered dozens of his kin, back when he was still a god. There will be vengeance. He was about to finish the angel off when another appeared.

"You," he said flatly. He knew that William treasured his butler, and fighting two angels of presence at the same time would be troublesome no matter how weakened they both were. But mostly it was because William would be upset if his faithful Butler disappeared, no matter what he did to Solomon in the past. "Stand aside- I don't want to fight you."

"I can't do that," Uriel said, holding up a cross. Dantalion raised a silencing barrier with hand, forgetting that William was not quite himself at the moment.

"Oh?" Solomon said lightly, observing the newcomer. With languid strides, Solomon left Sytry and walked up to the barrier. He put one hand against it, and it melted under his fingers like wax. No barrier was going to keep him out- not that it would do Dantalion any good since William already knew.

"William?" Kevin asked hesitantly, knowing full well that the Young Master should not know enough magic to undo Dantalion's barrier.

"William's safe for the moment, Uriel," Solomon smiled, looking at the angel. "He's sleeping. However, it was awfully careless of you to leave him alone with Michael like that."

Uriel gasped. His heart sank. "Solomon!" The magician almost chuckled. It seems like no one was quite happy to see him at all.

"You look well, Uriel," the man said and looked coldly at the angel lying on the destroyed floor. "You've changed so much. William is good for you."

"How are you even alive?" Uriel asked, shocked. He put a hand on his shoulder, feeling the phantom ache of his missing wings. And where has his young master gone? Has he been devoured by Solomon's soul, like countless others before him?

"I've heard a lot about Kevin from William. He loves you a lot, you know," Solomon said, ignoring Uriel's question altogether. "Do you understand what I said now, Uriel?"

He waves a finger, and the floor under Michael began knitting itself together. The angel was pulled up slowly by Solomon's spells, supported by invisible strings in the air. Even with the support, he held a hand to his shoulder gingerly.

"Please return to heaven," Uriel pleaded with Michael, hesitant to question Solomon further with Michael there, listening and watching with keen eyes. "I'm sure you came here without telling Raphael."

Michael scoffed. "Raphael. He wouldn't even notice if I disappeared. I suppose I don't have much of a choice- this human body isn't going to last for much longer." He rose, the wings on his back lifting hm up into the air once more.

"That's right- I still haven't gotten my answer, William Twinning," Michael said from the air, staring past Solomon and to William. "I'll come back again."

"I look forward to your visit," Solomon said placidly and waved him off in clear dismissal.

The world dissolved with Michael's exit, and Solomon turned to Uriel.

"I'll wake William up now. Do take care of him in my place, Uriel," he said to the angel as he let his charge's body collapse into Uriel's waiting arms.

* * *

"I'm becoming more like you," William said in his dream world. He looked in the mirror every day, and with each passing day, he could see himself shifting, his features growing older, his eyes a bit paler, the smile on his face a bit less like his own. He saw his own old photographs, the difference was far more evident then.

"So you are." Solomon did wonder when the child genius would pick up on the difference.

"Is it because of what happened with Michael?" He got the memories from that day. While it hurt him to receive confirmation that his butler was not what he seemed, it was better to know the truth earlier.

"No, it's not that," Solomon replied after a while. It was inevitable, this process. With every memory they shared, their souls grew closer. Souls are not solid. They're not distinct object with boundaries. They meld together, like liquid running into each other.

William looked hard at Solomon. The man seemed younger, his gaze a bit darker, his hair a bit more golden.

"You're becoming me," he realized in horror and took a step back. No, he thought. This can't be!

"I am," Solomon smiled sadly. "I think you understand why I wouldn't want to be myself anymore."

"But that doesn't mean you can just be me instead!" William shouted, half hysterical at this point.

"Would you rather I fade away completely then? That is the alternative." Solomon asked calmly. It was almost eerie, seeing features of himself- features that his mother and father passed onto him- reflected back on another's face.

"No! Of course not!" Losing his mentor was not an option; William was horrified at the mere thought. It was like losing his parents all over again.

"Then why do you complain?" Solomon asked patiently in return.

"I..." William hesitated, not knowing what to feel anymore. He didn't know what to think. Everything- all this was incomprehensible to him. What theory of atoms can possibly explain this? In this world so far away from his own realm of science, is there even anything tha

"I don't want to lose myself," he decided. He wouldn't run away- not from this and not from anything else. Even if his life turns into a disaster, William Twining is not a person who runs away.

"With some luck, you won't have to," Solomon said. He rose and knelt down by his charge. He remembered the bright six year old whose laughter lit up the halls with joy. The same youth who would stick out his tongue when he was concentrating, who once singed the lion's tail with a spell gone wrong. He didn't want to lose that brilliance either. "You're doing very well already, William. Far better than most."

Most would have perished already, their entire being drowned and swallowed up in Solomon's soul, their identity shredded and forgotten.


	4. Chapter 4

William was morose the next day, and the week after. His entourage was worried beyond themselves, but he only shook his head and replied that nothing was wrong. Instead, he spent his time with Isaac and his peers- with Swallow and the rest. He joined in their activities more than was necessary and seemingly made an effort to befriend people.

It was eerie, Dantalion thought as he observed William from the sidelines. After the fiasco with Michael, William became more withdrawn. He had the same sad look on his face that Solomon often wore, but his eyes were still focused. This was William and not his ancestor. Rather than the snappish, prideful, always-in-a-hurry William, he was now taciturn at times... as if he was nostalgic.

Even Isaac was bothered; normally, William would scoff at his magics and his summoning, but nowadays, he only observed him fondly with an indulgent smile. He didn't even have his notes with him- with Elliot once again absent due to illness, William's spot as valedictorian was reassured.

"What is wrong with him, Sytry? What happened? Did the cheating scandal really bother him that much?" Sytry only shook his head and looked away. He'd love to answer the mortal, if only he had an answer to give.

The other two demons looked to Camio for guidance. Out of the three of them, he knew the most about human life. To their surprise, Camio only told them to leave William to his own device. "Let him treasure his time as a normal human being; he doesn't have much of it left." There wasn't much they could say in response to that, and so they hovered nervously over the boy, always just out of sight.

* * *

 

Isaac studied his books intently in their shared dorm room; here, it was quiet, and no one would bother him. He rarely did any studying of the academic nature, but perhaps William will appreciate his efforts. He was surprised when William was the one to walk in carrying a large tome on demonology, one that he recognized.

"That's mine!" He gasped. William looked at him, sighed, and dropped the book down with a thump onto the table between them.

"So it is. You'll forgive me if I can't exactly be seen checking out books on demonology," his friend said with a shrug. He wanted no more angels coming after his head.

"But what are you doing with it?" Isaac inquired. William wasn't exactly convinced about religion or supernatural powers.

William sighed once more and rubbed his eyes tiredly. "I can no more deny the existence of the supernatural than I can deny that I am human."

He admitted it! Isaac thought furtively. Finally! Science has lost to magic!

"Science has not lost to magic," William snapped, knowing his friend's thoughts well. "Science has simply not found magic yet, and I am in a singularly unique position to start its discovery."

"So what do you want to do?" Isaac asked, starting to get a bit confused.

"I need more information," William admitted his ignorance. "The books about demons aren't exactly reliable, and I don't know how outdated they are. We need someone to ask..."

"You called?" A head appeared out of the wall, rippling its surface like a fish darting out of the water's surface.

"I... didn't, actually," William said, jumping out of his chair in fright. Isaac was in much of the same shape. "Exactly why are you here? And in our uniform too."

"I'm here to see Dantalion!" the girl crowed. "I was sure he'd be with his lover."

William colored a brilliant red. "You've got the wrong person then, I'm afraid." Lamia only glared death at him. "But actually, since you are so conveniently here, would you sit down and answer a couple of questions for us?"

She considered his request with unveiled suspicion. "What questions do you have for me, Elector?" She took a seat nonetheless.

William coughed and took a sip of his tea, his ears still tinged pink. "I'd like to know more about demons. How do demons _work_ exactly? Are there different species? Are their biology all the same? How do demons reproduce? What is their economy like- their food supply and needs? I don't even know where to start, exactly... For example, the snakes that you have," William elaborated, pointing out the venomous emerald serpents coiling around Lamia's legs, "are they summons? Are they a part of you? Do they have the same lifespan as you do? Do _they_ reproduce?"

The child shook his head, clearing the questions threatening to spill out of him in a stream.

Lamia only blinked at the onslaught of questions. She blushed at some of the questions. "We can multiply like humans do, but that's quite rare. That's why demons make contracts with humans; the human in question becomes the demon's household member afterwards and serve them."

"So you're Astaroth's daughter- she gave birth to you? That makes you a full demon." William summed up.

Lamia nodded. "I am the daughter of Astaroth and Beezelbulb. My court rank is a Princess."

"But Dantalion is a... Nephilim? Someone who used to be a human. That means he must have done something on Earth as a human and formed a contract with a demon after and joined their household. But who did he form a contract with?"

Lamia smiled secretively at that. "He formed a contract with his Highness Lucifer."

"With _Lucifer_?" William startled, remembering the gentle fingers reaching for Solomon from beneath a mass of wings and feathers.

"That's why he has the right to be the substitute king even though he is a nephilim. Dantalion is the first and last household member of His Highness, whom he made a contract with. He's special," Lamia explained. "If you want to know more about our world, shouldn't you see it with your own eyes?"

"... What do you mean?" William asked, knowing quite well what she meant.

"Walpurgis night hasn't ended yet, so the door to our world is still open- no one would notice the scent of humans now. Wouldn't you want to stay a bit longer this time?" Lamia asked, holding out her hand.

William took it.

* * *

"Welcome to the demon world!" Lamia spun around, now changed into one of her usual dresses.

"Oh wow," Isaac breathed. William had much the same opinion, even if he didn't voice it.

"It's different," he said instead. The city was just as busy as the Jerusalem that he saw in his dreams. The marketplace was bustling with demons of all sorts. He saw bits of reptile, three headed snakes and half humanoid creatures wandering about, buying and selling. It wasn't quite as technologically advanced as England, but it was all very tame for a place in hell. Nowhere did he find the brimstone and hellfire spoken of in texts.

"This is the city of Dina, on the mountainside. It's one of Dantalion's," Lamia explained. "That's why it's different."

"May I get a map at some point?" William shook his head. "It would be a bit easier to understand in context if I could see which mountains we're on and what the topography is like."

Lamia tilted her head, not quite believing that the elector was indeed serious in his quest to learn of the demon world. "Sure, if you want one."

William reached up to feel his ears. He twitched experimentally, trying to figure out just exactly which muscles controlled his new appendages.

"Oh, those," Lamia added, "I magicked them on so that no one would find out about you two being human."

"My thanks, I suppose," William muttered, his face still screwed up in concentration in trying to control his tail. Lamia chuckled. For a persona as serious as the Elector, he was really a child in both human and demon years. "Let me take you around town," she said.

As she pointed out various landmarks around the city of Dina, she explained about the world of demons to the two humans. "When a human makes a contract with a demon, they are dropped to the lowest levels of hell- cocytus, where they have to climb up. Whether they can or not depends on their strength."

Isaac was looking on the verge of transcribing every word that falls out of Lamia's mouth.

"Who was he when he was alive? Dantalion that is," William asked. "He must have left some sort of name behind in history, but I can't find him at all."

"Shouldn't you already know?" Lamia asked from her point up the staircase.

"He is the one who plays the flute," William said softly. He was momentarily tugged into Solomon's memories once more. Of a shackled child still confined in a tower, binding Dantalion down to his sigil for the first time.

"So demons do have dreams," Solomon said surely, not bothered to help the gasping Dantalion up. His memories flashed by, seeing a teenage Solomon surrounded by his demons- celebrating a birthday. He saw Tamar running up to Solomon, bearing news of David's movements and the start of the rebellion against his father.

"He's frightening, for a human," Baalberith noted to Dantalion. He heard it as well and only smiled.

He saw Solomon riding on a white horse, heading his army of demons to decimate his father's forces. He saw Solomon's look of bitterness and determination as David prophesied his son's demise. He felt his wrist turn, as he locked his father into the tower that he once lived in. He remembered his wife, Zera, an Egyptian daughter of the Pharaoh. He remembered sending Tamar off to her husband, kissing her gently on the forehead in farewell. He was left alone once more, but perhaps sending her away was the kindest thing he could do for her. He knew of her feelings, just as he knew that he would never return them.

For a moment, William saw through his eyes. He felt his demons breathing next to him, laying on his lap and content. Even if he was surrounded by the ones around him, the pang of loneliness never faded in the least.

"I've been with you for quite a while now, but I still don't know what you want," Dantalion asked Solomon; they were on the temple walls once again, observing the setting sun over a prospering Jerusalem.

Solomon turned around. "You'll know eventually. You'll do something that only you can do... Play your flute for me. I'm sorry- but I don't have a choice anymore."

"Hellooo?" Lamia waved her small hands in front of William's face. For a moment, when he looked up, his eyes were a pale green and not the emerald that she saw just before. Then, it focused and turned a darker green. She narrowed her eyes- he wasn't like this the last time she saw him.

"Sorry- just... a memory, I suppose," William shook his head to clear it of the cobwebs. It seems like he has space out again; it has been happening more as of late. Was Solomon trying to hide Dantalion's identity?

"Could you perhaps tell me a bit more about him?" William asked instead, seeing Lamia's grim look.

"We can't say more than that," she refused.

"How come?" he asked curiously.

"Because we have faith in him," Lamia admitted quietly. "We can't interfere with matters like this."

William thought about her words. Faith, huh? Seems like even demons need a bit of hope every now and then. "But could you answer some of my questions still?" He said doggedly.

The girl hesitated. "Well, I suppose..."

He grinned. 

* * *

Sitting in a gathering of the sixteen dukes of the Demon world, along with all the viscounts, the lords, and even the kings, Dantalion felt uneasy. A full attendance like this can only mean that things were really starting to get serious now.

"It's terrible! Master William has-" Amon and Mammon flew urgently to Dantalion's side, bearing news of William's disappearance. Astaroth and Beezelbulb both remained stoic at the news.

"Well, it does seem like the Elector has arrived," Samael interrupted the bats smoothly.

"What?" Dantalion gasped. To the other side of the room, Sytry and Camio also gasped. They looked at each other from the sides of their sponsors. William! What was he doing here?

"Well done... Lamia?" Astaroth ended her statement in a question. In walked William and Isaac, still talking a mile a minute at a Lamia who seems to be nursing a bad headache.

"Oh," William breathed, eyes wide, hair in disarray and finally noticing the round table of demons looking at him with various degrees of confusion and disbelief. "I'm sorry; I appear to be quite late to the meeting and didn't even dress for the occasion."

Astaroth couldn't stifle the laugh that escaped her. That was the exact same thing Solomon said whenever he missed his own meeting with his ministers.

* * *

"Thank you for the meal," William said politely to the waiter bearing his dinner. It was a bit odd to see a skeleton going shy, but there's a first for everything. Isaac too, was taking his dinner in another room.

"I believe this is the first time we've met, Elector William Twinning. I am the imperial minister, Samael, warden of the Eastern Limbo." Samael said with an Eastern style bow.

"Is it?" William murmured. He recognized now, the presence from the play. Samael held his finger up to his lips. Well, he'll stay quiet about this from now. He can no more police the kings of hell than he can fetch the moon down from the sky.

"I am the Northern King, Beezelbulb. I am also known as the Fly King," the horned demon raised his hand genially.

"Lamia's father," William greeted. "Your daughter is very knowledgeable. She's been a great help," he said politely. The king beamed. Seems like he's just as much of a doting father as any other even though his daughter clearly favors her mother.

"I am the Western King, Baalberith, warden of Tartarus," Baalberith reintroduced himself.

"It's nice to see you again, and in good health," William said. The king seemed a bit surprised despite himself.

"Now that the introductions have been made, there is really only one reason why you had to be called here so urgently," Samael explained. "Our master and king who opposes the light, His Highness Lucifer, isn't going to wake from his sleep. So we're not looking for a substitute king- we need to choose a second Lucifer."

William frowned, lowering his fork. That can't be right- this wasn't the plan that he saw in his memories, and they had the numbers and dates calculated to the decimals. Even if Solomon hides his memories even now, the little that he saw suggests that none of the candidates available to him to choose right now is what Lucifer truly wants. So, he'll have to find a way to wiggle out of this one without choosing anyone, he concluded quickly. He glanced at Samael, who had his chin in his hands. The demon smiled, white lashes concealing the look of amusement in his eyes. Out of all the demons, the one most at ease was him. This is a game to him, William realized. To see what he would do. As the one who is closest to Lucifer, he would know the most. Of course he would know if Lucifer's going into a death sleep or not... and he somehow managed to convince the other demons that he was. Damn him, William gritted his teeth.

"I see," he thought, wording his response slowly. "This is quite a troublesome situation indeed."

"Everyone is very interested in knowing who you will nominate, William Twinning. You are descended from Solomon, after all," Baalberith said.

"It seems that the issue is that His Highness Lucifer might not wake from his sleep." William summed up. "I believe he will," he said confidently, chin tilting up and looking at Samael in the eye.

There was an uproar among the demon lords. Samael's smile stretched a tad wider.

William waited patiently for the crowd to quiet down and took the chance to eat more of the food presented to him. "While I have not met him personally, I have been told that he is very powerful and have been through a great many sleeps. Is there any concrete _evidence_ that he won't wake from his sleep this time? How is this situation different from his other sleeps?"

The demon dukes all looked at each other and eventually turned to Samael, who didn't reply and merely gestured for William to continue.

The teen took a deep breath. His eyes caught Dantalions, who was looking at him oddly, worried enough to almost leap across the table- decorum be damned. He smiled to calm down his demons- he saw Camio's eyes narrow, Sytry's brows crease. "If there is no definite evidence that he will not wake up, then there is no need for me to choose immediately. Furthermore, how can you ask me to choose right now? I know almost _nothing_ about the demon world. Hell, as I understand, is home to millions if not tens of millions of beings. Choosing a ruler for the realm is a great responsibility, especially for someone my age. As I'm sure that the venerable lords gathered here are much, much older than I can imagine, it baffles me how you can look to me for advice when I'm but a child in your eyes, remarkable ancestor or not. I'm not unreasonable; I'm not irresponsible. It's _precisely_ out of that responsibility that I refuse to choose right now." William said confidently, the words flowing smoothly and articulately. Dantalion and Sytry looked at each other, surprised at William's words.

"No one has explained to me what one looks for in a ruler of hell- the systems of hell, the economics, the government and politics, the logistics and requirements, or even each candidate's capability to fulfill each requirement. How can I simply choose, just based on who I subjectively like the best? Making a decision haphazardly is far worse than not making one at all. My choice alone affects the life of millions, so I refuse to take this situation lightly. I acknowledge my ignorance. I would like to take measures to _correct_ that ignorance, but I hope that you can understand that available means to do so are very limited in my situation. Besides my responsibilities to hell, I also have to mind the watchful eyes of angels. I think you all understand what I mean when I say that I cannot be seen researching or showing any particular interest in the inner workings of hell while I am in the mortal world." William shook his head and once again glanced at Samael, only to see the fallen angel's single eye narrowed in thought. The gathered demons murmured angrily to themselves- the interference of heaven in the matters of hell was troublesome indeed. And to think they would fall as low as to bother a mere mortal.

"Time passes differently to you and to His Highness Lucifer, to whom my lifespan is but a blink of an eye. If possible, I request that I be given the proper time and education before I make a sound decision. I ask that I be allowed to live my life as a human. What is but a few short years to you, who live millennia, when I will never even reach a century?" William monologued eloquently.

He never knew that William had that sort of elegance in him, Dantalion thought with surprise and a bit of pride. He knew that the boy wanted to be a Prime Minister, but to think that the teen was so politically savvy was something that he never considered. He was smart and keen, to show proper deference and respect to Lucifer. It clearly mollified the gathered lords' tempers for now.

Good job, William! The three demons all thought with relief. They could see that the demon lords were sold.

"Spoken like a true descendant of Solomon," Astaroth threw her head back and laughed heartily. Her eyes held in them laughter and pride. "So that's why Lamia came in with a headache."

"She has been a great help, I admit," William acknowledged. "The flight here was far too short for me to ask everything I wanted to though." Astaroth only laughed some more- surely, the flight must have been very long to Lamia.

Samael chuckled, now observing the Elector closely. He made the right choice at the time, not allowing the Rider of Pestilence to take Solomon's soul. This incarnation was clearly by the best one of Solomon's thus far. He could see an echo of the king in the boy. It was only too obvious. He wasn't Solomon; perhaps he was better than Solomon. For all of Solomon's wisdom, the man was always passive and unwilling to actually do anything of particular importance. This one- William Twinning- was clearly not the same, even if he was just as cunning. To be allowed to live his mortal life... he has just effectively bought himself more time to be left alone, which was precisely what he wanted to begin with. And now he made it seem like he was doing it for the good of the demons and not the other way round.

Now he has good news to bear to His Highness- the time has come, and the realm will surely be in good hands in this boy who inherited Solomon's wisdom. Just as he opened his mouth to allow the Elector to go home, one of the dukes noticed something interesting.

"That's Solomon's ring," a six horned demon noted greedily, seeing the silver ring catch the light.

"Solomon's ring of wisdom," they murmured, voices rising once again as old grievances were brought to light. "If only that thing didn't exist!" The shadows stretched out, and William's breath hitched as he felt hands reach for him.

"What? No!" William struggled against the hands. One of them reached for his ring, and he panicked- a familiar feeling to him by now. Then, he knew no more. 

* * *

"In the name of the my God, I command you with the power of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. You will Obey me." Solomon intoned from the air, held up in a halo of light.

"That's the Lesser Key of Solomon," Baalberith gasped. This was not the weedy, conniving teenager sharing dinner with them. This was purely Solomon- all apathy and no mercy. He caught Solomon's gaze, and a shiver went down his spine. This is Solomon's cold anger- the easy destruction of the entire hall. That duke will regret his decision to move against the Elector soon enough, if he wasn't already.

Solomon seethed internally. How dare they go against his wishes and bring William down to hell. To expose him to the Lords like this- to _make_ him choose. A lesser incarnation would have picked one and be done with it, completely sending his carefully laid plans to ruins. He was lucky that William knew enough to make his way out of the situation with tact, yet just as he was about to escape safely, some demon had to go and notice his ring. How _dare_ they touch his protege! Even when the child made such efforts to go about things nicely, and they dare spit on his efforts in greed! For once, he saw red as his rage reared its ugly head.

"Obey me, evil ones. Spirit of fire, burn brightly. Spirit of water, flow. Spirit of wind, blow everything away. Spirit of Earth, strive." His tone was dull, yet his words sent beams of light into the air, knocking down demons indiscriminately. Sytry was sent into a pile of boulders, barely getting up with a wince. Camio narrowly missed a beam as it singed his hair and part of his wings. He swallowed nervously and held one hand to his bleeding shoulder. This isn't William- William would never do anything like this to bring harm to other people... Even in his anger. This is Solomon without reason; he was beyond angry this time. Even he wouldn't want to approach William- no, Solomon- like this.

There was only one demon with the disinhibition and lack of survival instincts to do so. "It's been a while, William, descendant of Solomon. You're the only one who could cause this much destruction in the demon world." Gilles de Rais shot towards Solomon, an orb of fire in one hand. "There's someone I want to see again, so die, won't you?"

Solomon hovered in the air, twisting and deflecting the attack easily with one outstretched hand.

"What?" Gilles gasped, pausing uncertainly in the air. This isn't the same person he saw when he attacked Dantalion's mansion. His miscalculated- badly. He swallowed hesitantly, wanting to retreat but not quite managing it. He squirmed under Solomon's gaze, prey trapped in the presence of a predator.

"Oh my, you're a new face, aren't you?" Solomon floated down. "William told me about you... You descended to hell after my death, right? Won't you like to become my seventy-third pillar?"

The murderous look on William's face paralyzed Gilles completely. It was completely unsuited on the youthful, laughing face of the child, yet it had the commanding presence of a king. The pressure around him was immense, and he knelt down hard on the ground. In a blink, the boy was gone once more.

"Astaroth! What a pleasant surprise! Are you planning another party?" Solomon flitted through the air and stopped in front of Astaroth, who was still digging herself out of a pile of debris.

"Solomon... Is that you?" She asked, feeling an old fear creep uneasily up her throat. Now she can easily see the difference between Solomon and William. She could never mistake this presence... nor can she forget it. For once, she wished that the child could wake up; this isn't him. Not at all.

"Thank you for taking care of William," he said with a chuckle, bloodlust still shining in vacant green eyes. "Your daughter is quite adorable- congratulations. Dantalion, hm? She has good taste." He chuckled, an odd echo of William's and devoid of any real humor. Without a further word, he disappeared from before Astaroth's eyes. She gulped, a bit relieved that she never did quite trick the Elector. She made a note to tell Lamia to not anger Solomon.

"Baalberith- it's been a while, hasn't it? Doesn't this bring back so many memories? You were there until the end, in Israel... Even after my death, old god of Cannon." Solomon whispered in Baalberith's ear darkly. The demon king flinched away from him, turning pale with fright and guilt both.

"William! Wake up!" Dantalion gasped, joining the boy in the air and trying to tug the ring off William's finger.

"Dant... alion?" William's voice was small and weak, trying to wrest control back. The green eyes focused for just a split second before going vacant once more. At the same breath, Solomon took over firmly. "Don't get in my way, Dantalion. You of all my pillars should know better." He sent a pillar of light through the demon, causing him to plummet to the ground.

This isn't good- Camio thought. If Dantalion uses up his lifespan, he'll go into a death sleep. He can't oppose Solomon's will... William wouldn't want that, a small part of him said. William isn't here anymore, another part said firmly. Just as he thought that it was hopeless, a breeze of wind brought a white feather drifting through the air.

"This presence..." he breathed. As Lucifer's half child, he was more sensitive to his father's presence than any other demon.

A great gate appeared, floating in the air. Its great doors opened: from the darkness, a miasmatic hand made of black stars reached out and caught Dantalion in mid fall. He healed immediately in the grasp, the damage reversed in a blink of an eye.

As feathers drifted down in a rain, Solomon drifted up to the sky. He caught the feathers in his hands and relished in the soft touch and the smell that was unique only to the ruler of hell. "I understand," he said. Now that he was awake, the problem was solved. Only he could calm down me down like this, Solomon thought, still annoyed. After all, their plans still depended on the cooperation of the demons. He couldn't very well kill them all, anger aside. Perhaps he is too hasty in his actions, but he regretted none of it. After this, they won't dare to touch his child again.

Rationality restored, he finally let William go- the child has been struggling hard within his mind, almost begging his mentor to stop the destruction. He let the child take control of his body once more, with only a whisper of apology as the fatigue of magical use caught up with him. He'll recite his apologies later; he tolerates no disobedience from his demons, and he has a fair number of grievances to settle. They needed to be put in their place, and this will only give William credibility and proof in the demons' eyes. He regretted none of it.

"W... wait," William coughed, still floating in air despite slipping once or twice. He could feel his vision start fading to black. The closing gates of hell paused, leaving only a sliver of space. William climbed up in the air until he was just before the opening.

"William!" Dantalion gasped from the ground, where he was set down. Camio pulled him back and shushed him urgently. He needs to use his brain. Whatever this is, neither of them can disobey Lucifer. William will have to deal on his own.

William peered into the gates of hell steadily, seeing only blackness. Yet, he knows that beyond the curtains, he knows that Lucifer is peering right back. Why does he see? A shadow of Solomon? A mere child? He doesn't know. "I am William Twinning, Solomon's protege and descendant. I... I know what he did. He said he'll tell me everything, at the end. I'll come back for you, one day. Wait for me. And thank you, for healing Dantalion and calming Solomon down." He held a hand uncertainly to his chest, still feeling the wretched moment when his limbs and lips started moving on their own, out of his control.

The shadowy hand snaked back out to reach for him, and he tried to stand firm in the air. The cold touch was almost fond and amused and a bit nostalgic. He leaned into the touch, putting his own hand against the blackness like how Solomon once greeted Lucifer. Slowly, the hand withdrew, and the gates closed. With a sigh, he dropped out of the air and allowed himself to fall.

* * *

"William! William!" It could be a minute. It could be an hour, a day, a week- he didn't know how much time passed (he was tired and didn't particularly care), but he woke up to see Dantalion's face hovering over his. He had never seen the demon look so relieved in his life before.

"Dantalion," William sat up with a groan. "You're alright- sorry, I tried to stop Solomon, but he was as angry as I've ever seen him. Is that guy dead?" He saw his ring lying on the ground next to him, and he slid it onto his finger easily. He would never know, but before he regained consciousness, numerous demon have tried and failed to even touch the ring.

Dantalion pointed at the pile of ashes at the center of the rubble. That explains that, William thought. As the kings approached, William stood up, helped by his demon.

"Calm down," Beezelbulb said to Dantalion when he saw the candidate bristle. "It is as the Elector said; his Majesty has woken up. There's no need to hurry things along."

"Well then, return the Elector to the human world, Sir Dantalion. Elector, your request... is not unreasonable. I shall consider it with His Majesty." Samael said, looking pristine while his brethren remain injured or groaning in pain. William could spy the look of a pleased cat on Samael's face... and he in turn, pouted. The fallen angel only grinned some more behind a hand.

"Very well," Dantalion bowed, as did Camio and Sytry.

* * *

"Why did you do that?!" William screamed in his mind, shattering the water jugs resting on the table with a loud bang. He clenched his bleeding hands tight, gritted his teeth and glared at his mentor petulantly.

Solomon only sipped his tea serenely, but it only took one piercing look to have William hesitating. It has been a very long time since his child last threw a tantrum- so long that it was unbecoming of a young man his age.

"Sit down," he said. Solomon never had to raise his voice with William, or with anyone else, to make his displeasure known clearly.

He stood, mulish expression still evident on his face. Even Solomon's stare could not get him to quell. After a while, the older man only chuckled. Perhaps he would have been more disappointed if his successor had obediently sat like any other common pet.

"I did what I had to," he said, crossing his legs. "What do you think would have happened, if I hadn't appeared? Could you have really handled all those demons alone? Not all of them are my pillars. You haven't renewed your contracts with the pillars at all. Could you have handled those demons without my help?"

William looked away, knowing full well what the answer to that particularly question is. He can't do that, he thinks to himself. He can't renew the contracts with Sytry, Dantalion, and Camio. For one, it turns them back into what they were to Solomon in the past- a veneer of friendship hiding a lifetime of servitude. He refuse. He can't do this to them-they're not just any run of the mill demon- they're his _friends._ He'll manage on his own; he'll muddle through this without turning his friends into his _slaves_. 

"You did well, Child, but words can only carry you so far. They needed to be put in their place," Solomon said, his cruelty paradoxically smooth and soft. 

"Not like this," William said quietly. His hands shook- he still remembered the spells that he didn't say, the hands that reached out and killed.

"Exactly like that," Solomon rebutted. "They need proof- that I approve. That Lucifer approves. They needed to know that you're not just talk. That's how demons work; their hierarchy is built upon blood and bones. No one will mourn that foolish duke."

William sat down hard on the temple walls, deliberately ignoring the seat pulled out for him. "Don't do that again- not anymore- I can't... I don't want to." His shoulders shook.

Solomon only sighed and poured William a cup of tea. Arguments with his own child was always so tiring. Despite the results, it was always as if he still lost. He could really do with something sweet, perhaps a cake of some sort. "I can't promise you that, Child, you know that. I regret a great many things, but I will never regret taking action to keep you safe. For all you're my heir, you're still just a child." He's soft, Solomon thinks to himself- still thinking with an idyllic mindset that doesn't belong in the world. The world doesn't run on whims and _wants_ ; it runs on necessity. It's something he'll have to take measures to correct in the future. 

William wondered if his mentor was just a hypocrite or if he genuinely believed his own words. 

* * *

The days following the confrontation in the demon world were tense. William didn't sleep much beyond the bare minimum, and it showed. Dark circles puffed out under his eyes, and his slouched over when the walked.

"I have exams. Sleep can wait.," he would mutter whenever his demons grew too concerned about his well being. "I'll live." They weren't all too sure about that, but they knew well enough not to argue with William regarding academics.

In reality, he didn't sleep beyond five hours because he was avoiding his dreams- or rather, his mentor who would undoubtedly be waiting for him there. He didn't really want to talk to him: the incident was still too fresh in his mind. The unease of unconsciously losing control of his body, of being a prisoner in his own mind, is still too much for him. It chilled him to the bone; sometimes he would lie awake in his bed, staring at his shaking hands. He wanted badly to take off the ring and toss it to the farthest corner of the Earth, but he knew that it wouldn't do anything.

Solomon is but a man, he would whisper to himself. Just a man. He's a ghost, forever dodging at his footsteps. He's a benevolent spirit, guiding his life gently through every twist and turn. William wasn't sure which one he preferred.

And so, he doesn't sleep.

* * *

"Ascot?" William asked, blinking up at his butler. It was June, and all the exams were over. For once, he was alone with Kevin; the demon trio had their own business to attend to, now that Lucifer was awake once more.

"Why bother with a break, Kevin?" William asked, hefting up a heavy tome in his lap as if to prove his point

Uriel could hardly keep from a biting remark. Has he even looked in a mirror lately? "You need a break, Young Master. It'll be alright to travel by ourselves once in a while, right?"

"I guess? That's not what I meant though- how do we have the money for this?" William raised an eyebrow. "Don't tell me you've been gambling again!"

"Ah, well- you see-..." He was hardly about to tell the Young Master that money wasn't really a problem with angels, given how they could magic gold out of the air. It's probably better that he keep that ability from William, knowing what he would do with the information.

"Geez, honestly," William sighed. "Since when have you been so addicted to gambling?" Isn't avarice a cardinal sin? It's ironic that the Angel of Penance would be addicted to a sin such as this.

"I'm not sure myself," Kevin chuckled. He wasn't addicted- not in the least. He did like to play in high stakes games, but if the Young Master were to check the records, he would not find Kevin's name on the ledgers.

"I suppose we can travel if you say it's okay to," William mused. "You are the one looking after the house, after all... It's just that Ascot..." he trailed off.

"Ascot?" the angel prompted gently.

"We were riding to Ascot when... my parents and I were going to see the horses," William said quietly, resting his hands over the book. "I was the one who asked them to take me there; I made top grades in my lessons that year, you see... And I asked them to take me there as a reward. If only I hadn't..."

Kevin got up and put his hands on William's shoulders sternly. The teen looked up, his eyes wide, his vulnerability clearly seen. "It's not your fault. _None of this is your fault_ ," he said adamantly, lavender eyes grave. "None of it," he reiterated.

"Not even Solomon?" William asked, joking a bit despite the seriousness. Some part of him twisted, hearing the assuring words from the person who has been beside him all this time. Even after all these years, some days, he curls up in bed with guilt with nightmares of his mother's bloodsoaked dress and his father's hands- limp and pale in death.

" _Especially_ not him," Uriel said, with a bit of a snarl in his voice. William Twinning is an intelligent, sweet child who is going to become the Prime Minister of England one day, he told himself. It's not his fault that his inheritance forces him into the heart of a millenia-old war between heaven and hell.

It is unfortunate, a voice echoes inside him, that fate has its own way. He banished the voice away with practice. The voices have disappeared with his wings, leaving only a singular whisper (vengeance on Michael, justice on the wicked, the voice says. Uriel ignores it.)

"If you say so," William said with a scoff. Yet, there was a hint of smile on his lips. Not his fault- perhaps these words were the ones he needed to hear all along. 

* * *

"Kevin?" William turned the corner in a rush, having sensed a very familiar (and unwelcomed) presence. "Are you alright?" He saw the butler lying on the ground, out of breath and in pain.

"... Yes, I'm alright. I merely tripped over the carpet," Kevin said. The excuse sounded flimsy even to his own ears.

Clearly, William wasn't fooled in the least. He knew what he felt. If his senses could even pick up the Red Serpent of Lucifer's Court hiding in a London play, then he can be assured that it was Michael that he felt for a split second.

"Is it?" William asked, his head tilting to one side, contemplating the situation. "I'll have the painting moved to the back hallway of the manor tomorrow." He said, not quite meeting Kevin's eyes.

He knew that sooner or later, Michael would order his exaltation. The angel's cruel enough to order Kevin to do it, especially since he knows Kevin wouldn't want to.

There's a reason why the three demons are gone, William thought to himself. Isn't there a rebellion going on in France right now? How can Michael even have time for this if he's the patron saint of France? Now that he thinks of it, that's probably where his demons went; they wouldn't miss an opportunity like this to undermine heaven.

Which of course, leaves William and Kevin conveniently on their own in England. Almost too conveniently.

"Please be careful, Kevin," William sighed and reached out a hand to his butler, being particularly careful to support his upper back. He almost wanted to start a healing spell, but Kevin-Uriel- wouldn't appreciate such a thing.

"... I will, Young Master." In what, he wasn't quite sure.

* * *

"You're jealous, aren't you?" A voice William knows as well as his own says, choking on a mouthful of bile. He flinched, wondering if Solomon was addressing him. He wasn't. A memory then, he realized. William wondered why he was seeing this memory. Around him were shattered pillars and a complicated pentacle... And hovering in the air on great outspread wings, was Kevin, no- Uriel.

"Kevin?" William murmured, his hands sliding through a feather drifting through the air. Only this person wasn't his butler- couldn't possibly be his butler. His eyes were empty and cold, cruelty filing the warm purple gaze he was used to.

"Uriel, the Angel of Repentence and Cruelty. Punishing humans according to the Laws of Heaven is your job, yet no matter how much you punish humans, their sins don't stop. So is that punishment really necessary? Are _you_ still necessary?" Solomon confronted the angel boldly.

Uriel's expression twisted with rage, and he sent a dozen spears of light raining down on Solomon, who was pinned to the floor like a butterfly on a specimen board. William gasped, tears starting to gather at the corners of his eyes. Despite his strained relationship with his mentor, he couldn't stand by and do nothing. He stood in front of Solomon, hovering over him uncertainly.

"It certainly seems mysterious. Just like you, they commit ridiculous sins, knowing that that they will suffer." The angel sneered.

"Don't you know, Uriel? _It's because it brings them joy_." Even from his position on the ground, Solomon's expression was one of serenity.

With a gasp, William woke up. He clutched at his chest, feeling the phantom pain where the arrows pierced Solomon's heart. It took him a second to register his surroundings, mostly importantly, that there was something extremely heavy on him.

His green eyes widened with panic when he saw Kevin's outstretched hand over his heart, the glow of Heaven's Spear bright over his chest. He scrambled backwards on his bed, hitting the headboard squarely with a loud thud. He clutched at the blankets he could pull (yet he could not unbalance the angel enough to shove him off the bed altogether).

Kevin's purple eyes were equally wide- with guilt and regret. William should never be afraid of him- to see his young charge with such a stricken expression- because of him, aimed at him... The glow of heaven's spear faded, and his lowered his hand.

"Kevin... no, Uriel," William said slowly, still shaking with fright.

"No- I..." Kevin's head snapped up, dread in his heart. How did he know? For how long...?

"I've know for a long time now," William admitted. "Ever since you became the school's pastor. Solomon told me."

Kevin mentally snarled. That wretched man! He said he wouldn't, he thought bitterly. How foolish of him to believe anything Solomon had to say.

"I don't regret what I've said," William said with a long sigh to calm his nerves. "You are gentle, Kevin."

Uriel looked away. "You have Solomon's memories; you see them in your dreams."

"I do," William said, pouring himself a cup of water shakily from his bedside. "I've seen his memories. I've seen you at your job."

Job, if it can even be called that, he thought morbidly. Uriel could almost feel the self-loathing rising up, and one hand unconsciously crept up to his shoulder blades, where Michael had torn out his wings once upon a time.

To the angel's surprise, William reached out and took his hands. "You are gentle, Kevin," he reiterated. Before he could get laughed at by his butler, he rushed on. "I might not always agree with Solomon- I usually don't, nowadays- but he's right about one thing. You've changed. I don't know what happened or how this happened, but you're not the same person I saw in my dreams. The person I saw would never have such regret," William said with a smile.

"People sin because it brings them joy," William echoed. Uriel looked into William's eyes and didn't see a trace of Solomon. "Yet, would you say that my sin is having been born? None of this is my fault, is it? Wouldn't Solomon's sin be the same? The child of sin- isn't that what he is? Yet God chose him to bestow His grace upon."

Uriel sat down heavily on the opposite of the bed. His crossed his hands in front of his head, almost heaving at the implications of what he just did. William- did he just- no, not William. Not for the first time, he cursed his own existence.

William straightened his shirt and crawled on top of the covers. "Michael put you to this, didn't he? That bastard" he rolled his eyes. Kevin blinked. "Don't look so surprised- I sensed him in the hallways. See how well he likes having his artwork staring directly to the bathroom." Uriel laughed, half hysterical.

"You could have told me earlier that Heaven ordered you to exalt me," William shook his head. "None of this bloodshed over in France would have been necessary."

"I couldn't," Kevin said, interrupting William. "I couldn't exalt you- for some reason."

"What do you mean you can't?" William frowned. "For all the effort you put into convincing Solomon- that both sides put into swaying him- he could have gone either way if he didn't choose to kill himself."

Kevin shook his head, filing away what William said for another day. "There's something blocking the exaltation. You're not a believer?" He asked.

"I can't say that I'm particularly pious, no, but I've been baptised," William shrugged, now sitting cross-legged and hugging his pillow.

"Then what's causing the rejection?" Kevin murmured.

"Not that I particularly want you to succeed," William agreed, "but Michael's going to take your wings if you don't at least give him a good reason why exalting me doesn't work."

"Wing," Kevin corrected, grimacing. "He look all except for one when Solomon passed."

William's expression darkened. "I'll take _all_ of his before he gets to yours this time. I'm sure my demons would be more than happy to help me out. Lucifer would like that as a gift, wouldn't he?"

"You can't," Kevin shook his head. "If he dies, heaven will be thrown into chaos. There isn't a person to take over from him."

"Like the situation in hell then," William muttered, already feeling a headache build up.

"Yes, but don't mention that name is his presence," Kevin said dryly, remembering what happened the last time someone was foolish enough to compare the two in Michael's earshot. It wasn't pretty.

William snickered and reclined on his bed. "Well, you're welcome to take a look, Kevin. This is going to go a lot smoother if I give you permission, right?" At the butler's incredulous look, he continued. "Don't look at me like that- I know you're not going to hurt me even if you can't exalt me. Solomon probably wants a word with you anyways. I'm not exactly on speaking terms with him right now."

Kevin looked at him oddly but nodded nonetheless. William's gaze glanced to the right, near the fireplace, where he can feel another presence, hidden and lurking in the dark. It didn't seem to come with any intention to harm, so he let the presence be.

* * *

"Barton...?" Uriel said, gasping and clutching at his throat as he was forcibly ejected from William's most traumatic memory. He was drenched in sweat, and he heaved a breath, trying to regain his bearings. He landed unsteadily on shined marble floor. Two circles of high pillars surrounded him, broken and shattered in places.

"This is..." he realized.

"Welcome back, Uriel," Solomon said from the far wall, a pile of books already starting to creep up the wall.

The normally pristine king looked terrible- almost worse than William in real life. His hair hung limp and unwashed, white interweaving with blonde. He looked decades older that his age, his frame thin and gaunt.

"Solomon..." Uriel said, his wing automatically stretched out. "What happened to you?"

"William's temper, I'm afraid, is detrimental to my health. That child is quite stubborn when he has a mind to be," the king said with an airy sigh. "But nevermind my current state- I'll survive. Is William alright?" He rose unsteadily, setting down his book with a thump. "This is Michael's doing, I assume?" he ran his hands through the soft white feathers of Uriel's singular wing. He agrees with his charge's train of thought- Lucifer _would_ like Michael's head on a platter. And given how the Chief of Heaven factors into their plans, it's not entirely impossible. 

"I... Yes, this is Michael's doing," Uriel said uneasily. His wing twitched, feeling just a tad ticklish. Solomon laughed and withdrew his hand.

"I can't blame you for what you did," he said, though a hint of a threat appeared in his eyes. "Michael would have made you fall otherwise... perhaps that would be better for you, rather than being in between, but William's resistance to exaltation isn't my doing, no matter how keen you are to pin it on me."

"Then what...?" Uriel frowned in confusion.

"I'm not sure myself," Solomon mused quietly to himself. "Did you notice something in that memory?"

"What is Barton doing at the scene of the accident?" Uriel frowned. To his knowledge, Barton was in Egypt at the time, digging in some tomb in another.

"He's the Rider of Pestilence," Solomon smiled. Uriel startled at that. One of the four horsemen- even an Angel of Presence like him can't interfere in their work. "He wanted my soul- I wouldn't choose him at the time, and William put on my ring. He couldn't get my soul, so he made sure that no one else could either," he said, sipping on a mug of wormwood tea next to his books.

"Then William can never be exalted," Uriel breathed.

"No, not even if Michael kills him personally," Solomon shrugged. "If that were to happen, his soul would just dissipate, falling to neither heaven nor hell. It's Barton's own personal brand of bitterness, not that heaven would suit William anyways."

Uriel made a face at that- annoying as he is, Solomon is right.

"Besides, William would probably do a coup de etat in about three seconds flat and throw Michael off his throne- if he keep his awareness in heaven," Solomon snickered tiredly. His protege was cunning enough to pull that off, certainly. He only learned from the best, after all.

Uriel raised an eyebrow at that. True, but since when did Solomon _snicke_ r? Or have a sense of humor at all? On closer inspection, he looked a bit shorter than he used to be, a little less apathetic.

"You've changed, Uriel," Solomon smiled. Something about that smile didn't look quite like him... it looked like _William's_ smile, Uriel thought uneasily.

"Isn't this what you wanted?" Uriel couldn't help but ask, thinking back on their confrontation with Michael.

Solomon merely shook his head. "Didn't I tell you once? What did I say that time...? People sin because it brings them joy. Haven't you been happy all these years with William, Uriel?"

There really wasn't much that Uriel could say to that.

* * *

For the second time that night, William woke with a gasp. Uriel stood at the fireplace, whispering to another person standing in the room.

"Angel friend of yours, Kevin?" William asked, swinging out of bed. He fell into his dreamworld after Solomon was done talking to his butler, only to spend another hour scolding and crying over the man when he saw how worn his mentor was. Stupid, stupid Solomon, he thought angrily. The king's damned pride stopped him from putting anymore of a drain on his charge's magic when he knew he needed sustenance. It had taken another argument and a teary reconciliation over tea cakes for William to restore the king to his former glory by sharing more of their soul... only now, the two looked more like siblings than distant relations. It wasn't something that he liked, but if it meant keeping his mentor alive and tethered to the world, then he accepted the price gladly.

"Young Master, you're awake," Kevin said with relief. Silently, the other figure turned to scrutinize him. William met the gaze calmly and inclined his head in greeting. The other angel smiled and nodded back.

"I had to yell at Solomon a bit for being too stubborn to drain my magic. That old shut-in is more stubborn than the Bible gives him credit for." he grumbled and rubbed his head. "He's alright now." Great, now he was tired. He only got a sigh and a 'I told you so' from Solomon. He didn't regret it though.

"So, about that exaltation," William said, buttoning his shirt carefully and slipping on his jacket.

Uriel shook his head. "It's not Solomon's fault. I think it had something to do with your uncle, on the day of the accident."

William raised an eyebrow at that. "Uncle Barton was there?" He didn't remember the scene very well- after he slipped on the ring, he didn't remember much after that.

Kevin nodded. He hesitated, adding, "He's the Rider of Pestilence, of the Four Horsemen of Apocalypse."

"I see..." William said, mentally marking down his uncle as a person he can't trust, if he's in league with either heaven or hell. The Horsemen of Apocalypse, he thought... According to the lore, if all four of them gather, then they will bring about the end of the world. He could vaguely recall something to do with the Horsemen in Solomon's memories. He'll have to do more research on the matter at a later date. "So I can't be exalted, and since it's not my fault when random portals open up beneath my feet," he argued.

Kevin almost snickered at that, well used to William's griping about dimensional travel, and even Raguel cracked a smile.

"Does that mean we can just enjoy our vacation peacefully then?" he asked optimistically.

"Of course, Young Master," Kevin smiled, feeling greatly relieved.

"Now, I believe you've yet to introduce me to your friend," William said, turning his attention to the dark haired stranger in his bedroom.

"I am Raguel, Lord Uriel's loyal servant." He said quietly.

"Pleased to meet you," William said, striding over and offering his hand. "I'm William Twinning, current incarnate of Solomon's   
soul and someone who has a bone to pick with Michael."

Raguel smiled.

* * *

The rest of the vacation went without a hitch; he got to see the royal horses at Ascot, and with Raguel's help, William managed to drag Kevin away from the gambling stalls by the ear.

"It's especially not fair if you can see into the future," William said while dragging his butler away. He mentally thanked his quiet partner in crime for the information. While Raguel was much too timid to really do much to his master, William was not nearly as hesitant.

"But, Young Master," Kevin almost whined.

"No buts," he said firmly, feeling Solomon's age. "We're going to pack and go home. I've got a new school year to prepare for."

Kevin wanted to groan. Sometimes, he felt like even Solomon knew more about having fun than his Young Master.

* * *

William started the school year only to see the only person he didn't want to see.

"It's that creepy guy who appeared on my balcony randomly last week," William flicked a pencil moodily at the new teacher. It was possibly the world's worst rendition of Romeo and Juliet, he recalled darkly, where "Juliet" shoved Romeo off the balcony and chased him off by screaming bloody murder. He had set a murderous half-archangel on his heels to boot.

"Isn't he the Count of Glenstare?" Isaac said to the side where he was analyzing Solomon's Lesser Key. As the reincarnation of the person who wrote the damned thing, he had it memorized from front to back and didn't need to reference the text at all.

"He's not the Count of anything," William retorted. "The Count of Glenstare isn't a title that exists- don't be ridiculous." And he would know, given how many generations he can trace the Twinning line back. The odd redheaded teacher had the audacity to wink at him, which put him in an even worse mood at before. He scowled through the lesson and the remainder of the day.

After class, William comes to the realization that there is, in fact, something more ridiculous than Isaac's obsession with the occult. Mathers, as it turns out, is a magician. One with dozens of fairies hovering over him, stealing his hat and making his tea. It's hard to take anyone seriously like this, William thinks, and Solomon's also privately amused at the frivolous use of magic.

"Not anymore frivolous than all the magic you used to right your spilled teacups," William mutters to himself, not quite listening to the man while Isaac is enraptured.

"I want to strengthen the human race, which has been intimidated by heaven and hell since it has began, with a power that surpasses theirs," Mathers announced with a sly smile.

It was definitely a smile that can't be trusted, William thought. The man was about as shady as shady comes, he thought privately. There was just something... off about the man, and he can't quite put his finger on it. It has to do with something that Solomon is still keeping from him- something in the last memories they have yet to share. He had a vague idea, yet it kept slipping past his fingers like oil droplets on water. It wasn't only him- Kevin was equally unnerved, though he can't seem to say anything about the matter.

It was ominous, at best.

* * *

The war of roses was about as usual as always, only this year, William didn't need to sell top essays to gather "funds" for the "war". He only needed to dig out the talisman from his Greater and Lesser Keys and set up a cafe. Sytry, Camio (and by extension, Giles for some odd reason), were more or less happy (or so William would like to think) to take care of the revenue for him. When he saw Ammon and Mammon in human form also ordering tea, he roped the two anthropomorphic bats into helping out as well.

Meanwhile, they left Dantalion in hell alone, drowning in his stack of papers.

"It's good to see that you're responsible about your duties, Dantalion," William snickered mischievously as he crossed the portal and brought the tea personally to Dantalion's office in hell (Ammon and Mammon can't be spared after all, they were cute and drew revenue). It was actually quite spacious, with wide ceiling-to-door windows and a oval bookcase reaching around the entirety of the office. As a part of the continued effort to educate William about the demon world, he was granted permission to open the portal to the demon world whenever he chose to.

Dantalion pouted and doodled an angry face where he signature was supposed to go on the paperwork. William laughed- "Very mature, Dantalion. Isn't it ironic, that I'm the one bring you tea now?"

The demon eyed the pot of questionable tea with no less than eighty percent suspicion. "Maid outfits, really?"

"It's not poisoned if that's what your thinking. And if you listen to the Chinese Medicine club, it's actually quite good for you." William shrugged. "And yes, maid outfits. Sytry actually looks great in it. He's the one who gave me his sigil and inspired the idea. Otherwise I would have probably lost to Isaac."

Dantalion raised an eyebrow. "Lost to him in what? Speaking of sigils, should I be afraid to give mine to you?" he teased.

"It was Mather's idea- this stupid competition between Isaac and I," he rolled his eyes. "That man's inordinately pleased that I'm able to toss him around like a rag doll in our matches or bouts or whatever he calls them. He's as creepy as creepy comes, that guy. And there's no point in giving me your sigil- I've got them all memorized anyways." He waved a hand. "I just accidentally summoned Sytry when Mathers threw me off the spire of the church tower."

"Who is this Mathers person?" Dantalion asked, startled, turning his undivided attention to William now.

"He's a fraud who also goes by the Count of Glenstare," William said drolly. "He's a magician by trade, I believe? He used to be an exorcist. I'm not really sure what he is, but I feel uneasy about him. I can't quite put my finger on it. He's no ordinary mortal, that's for sure. Kevin feels the same, though he's not sure that that man is either. He's not half bad at magic- good enough to keep out demons, at least."

"A mortal keeping out demons?" Dantalion frowned. Usually mortals who tried magic without God's favor turned out to be something like Isaac- a total joke.

"Yeah, I know," William sighed and idly took a sheet off the top of the stack. "This will go quicker if you've got another pair of hands. Give me a pen."

"Do you even know what you're supposed to do with that?" Dantalion pulled out an extra pen for William from his drawer.

"No, but I can learn fast enough," he shrugged. "Anything to get me away from Giles, really. That man is entirely too happy to be in a maid costume." He made an odd face at that.

Dantalion laughed and pulled out a couple of books for William. He gestured for William to drag a chair over, and they began going over the paperwork together.

When Lamia barged into the office five hours later, she found William asleep at Dantalion's desk with the demon's cloak draped over his shoulders and a pool of ink staining his sleeve. Petulant as she is, she peered over his shoulder carefully to see that all of Dantalion's paperwork had been annotated with William's careful (though illegible) writing, with books and cross references written in the margins and questions circled in red. In the margins, there were a couple of Dantalion's doodles, though they were joined this time by what looks to be misshapen potatoes. She nearly tripped over a stack of books as she circled around the boy.

Huh, she thought. He really is serious about his education, she thought, surprised. Even if he's determined to steal Dantalion away from her, she pouted. Tip toeing carefully, she left the office quietly.

As for Dantalion? Why, now that his paperwork was done, he was off to take pictures. Purely for record keeping purposes, of course.   
  


**Author's Note:**

> Mandy: A fic for the Makai Ouji fandom! Just a warning- I probably won’t see this fic to its completion. I’m a busy med student with a chronic disease to boot, so I writing fics is pretty low on my priority list. Nonetheless, this was just too good of an idea to pass up. I think the fic itself will mostly be in a series of drabbles roughly following the timeline of the cannon plot (yay, an excuse to reread one of my new favorite mangas). Feel free to take the general idea and run with it, but please don’t copy any of the passages.


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